#it's my last day off work too oof

[hecatesbroom]

that unfortunate occasion when you're kind of sick and you want to write, but words don't work

[foundationsofdecay]

though i am realizing that that DEF scraps those surgery plans, huh

[5sospenguinqueen]

Terrible Two | Max Verstappen x Hamilton! Reader

Summary: Lewis hates the idea of Max dating his sister. Not because he's overprotective but because he’s trying to save the younger driver from the insanity of his sister. Or the one where Y/N terrorises the Grid OFF the track and Max terrorises them ON the track.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Not 2021.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

Requested by @shelbyteller

Main Masterlist

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and others

YourUserName race day with my favourite hamilton (oh, and lewis was there too, i guess) 💚 tagged: roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton

9,457 comments

User 1 i live for the hamilton sibling shade

lewishamilton i miss how peaceful my life was before you were born

→ YourUserName i miss how peaceful my life was before i was born too

→ User2 oof, felt that

roscoelovescoco loves you aunty y/n

→ YourUserName and i love you my sweet boy. i’m already planning my next attempt to kidnap you

→ User3 i love that she wastes no time to pick on lewis but plays along with his roscoe account

→ YourUserName i don’t play when it comes to my fluffy man

User4 miss thing, you are not slick. we all see the red bull in the last slide

→ User5 omg and they were seen chatting outside the space between the two garages earlier

→ User6 she was also seen talking to charles, pierre, valtteri and george but i don’t see any of you linking them together?

→ User7 her and Charles tho

→ User6 ffs 🙄

mercedesamgf1 you and roscoe are also our favourite hamiltons

→ lewishamilton i just can’t catch a break

charles_leclerc thank you for letting me into the garage to see the baby 🐶

maxverstappen1 always nice having you around the paddock

liked by YourUserName

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YourUserName just posted

liked by alex_albon, lewishamilton and others

YourUserName another weekend, another flex 🏁. also, thank you to @ nike for literally being the reason i get to chase my brother around the world tagged: lewishamilton, georgerussell63

7,669 commnets

georgerussell63 will you stop eating my snacks

→ YourUserName no, you don’t need them. your trainer says you’re getting fat

→ georgerussell63 don’t tell lies!

lewishamilton shoes on the bed!!

→ YourUserName they never touched the bed! and they’ve never even touched the ground!

→ YourUserName get off my post!

→ YourUserName go lose some races!

→ lewishamilton just like you’ve lost my love!

→ YourUserName i never wanted it in the first place!

charles_leclerc perhaps you could wear red next?

→ landonorris nah mate. papaya all the way

→ maxverstappen1 i think she'd look better in blue

liked by YourUserName

mercedesamgf1 thank you for being the most entertaining member of the garage

→ georgerussell63 admin, how could you? i thought i was the best 🥺

User8 i'm living for y/n's sponsored post for work literally leads to her terrorising half the grid

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User9 no because the way this woman had him blushing and kicking his feet outside his own garage earlier, he’s smitten

→ User10 i was in the paddock and no joke, he giggled!

User11 um i highly doubt max is flirting with y/n to mess with lewis, if anything, lewis asked y/n to flirt with max to mess up his game

→ User12 i bet you’re feeling real foolish about this comment now (race day tweet)

→ User13 agreed with user12, if anything the flirting fuelled max because he won with an 8 second lead

User14 no because they would be far too hot for any of us to handle

YourUserName oh look at that, I’m trending again

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and others

YourUserName thanks for having me @ redbullracing. it was a different perspective of the track, that’s for sure. well done on your 1-2 tagged: maxverstappen1

10,347 comments

mercedesamgf1 but you’re still a traitor 💔

lewishamilton i missed you

→ YourUserName @ lewishamilton you’re so needy

→ YourUserName but i missed you too

redbullracing our good luck charm

→ georgerussell63 back off. you can’t have her

→ mercedesamgf1 @ georgerussell63 you tell ‘em, boo

maxverstappen1 it was a delight to have you

→ User15 dude you need better rizz than that

charles_leclerc ferrari in the future?

→ lewishamilton no

→ georgerussell63 no

→ mercedesamgf1 no

→ maxverstappen1 no

(this comment has been deleted)

danielricciardo i tried getting you to visit me there for years but max comes along and asks ONCE

liked by maxverstappen1

→ User15 omg max invited her

→ User16 omg she was there for work

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName he said he liked my curls so I let him take me for a drive

6,669 comments

yourfriend okay but the hair is looking fire

lewishamilton who’s car is that

lewishamilton where are you

lewishamilton who are you with

lewishamilton I know you’re on your phone. stop ignoring my comments

→ User1 lewis is killing me

→ User2 she’s really making him work up a sweat

yourfriend2 these pics are killing me. salivating

→ yourfriend3 agreed. bark bark woof woof

liked by YourUserName

liked by maxverstappen1

User3 okay but doesn’t that look a lot like max’s recent car?

→ lewishamilton show me the evidence

→ User3 omg no way you replied

→ User4 you literally can barely see the car but okay?

maxverstappen1 was he at least a good driver?

→ YourUserName i don’t know. he hit the curb and was a bit on the slow side

→ User5 you ain't slick, sis

landonorris omg you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about us

→ YourUserName omg but you kept asking me for curl care routines. how could i resist?

alex_albon i mean the curls are nice but i don’t know how he can put up with your personality

→ YourUserName @ lilymhe dump him

→ lilymhe but he’s losing? so i feel like i have to wait until the season is over

→ alex_albon babe!

User6 do they need a third

User7 everybody stay FUCKIGN CALM!

User8 okay but the way he holds her when he kisses her 🥹

User9 can somebody check on lewis? i feel he may not be able to handle this

User10 anyone else think these photos are an absolute invasion of privacy? how disgusting

→ User11 oh agreed. we hate that this was done but we're also so happy that they're together

User12 the dream team. one can terrorise the grid OFF the track and one terrorises them ON the track

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and others

YourUserName when bae is thirsty so am i 💦

11,342 comments

User13 is this a hard launch

→ User14 no, i think the paps did that for them

→ maxverstappen1 she had a 10 page document of plans for a soft launch as well

→ User15 um miss y/n, we'll still take those posts please

User16 does this mean we’re going to be getting y/n in the red bull garage from now to on and not Merc :(

→ georgerussell63 we were told we had to have shared custody

→ mercedesedamgf1 toto and christian had to sign a contract

lewishamilton i don’t like this. i'm happy for you but i do not need max verstappen thirst traps all over my feed

→ YourUserName well, i know you much prefer the real thing but you’re not allowed to drool over that anymore

→ lewishamilton how do i disown you?

→ YourUserName i've been asking myself that question for years

danielricciardo woohoo maxie. i wasn't familiar with you like that

charles_leclerc it's nice to see the two of you finally together so that max stops talking to me in the cool down room about your beauty

→ maxverstappen1 shut the fuck up.

→ YourUserName @ maxverstappen1 aww you think i’m pretty

→ maxverstappen1 of course I do

landonorris how could you do this to me. i thought we were forever

→ YourUserName we weren’t even for 2 minutes

→ danielricciardo she only likes champions, mate

redbullracing going to need these blown up and out in the garage

→ YourUserName already on it

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YourUserName just posted

liked by mercedesamgf1, nicorosberg and others

YourUserName just a couple of besties aka my brother wants to steal my boyfriend tagged: maxverstappen1, lewishamilton

7,555 comments

danielricciardo i think you mean MY boyfriend

→ YourUserName max told me your little fling meant nothing to him

→ danielricciardo @ maxverstappen1 you bitch!

→ maxverstappen1 i'm sorry but y/n means more to me than our night together

→ danielricciardo take it back

→ YourUserName your head game just wasn’t that strong

→ lewishamilton @ YourUserName i hate you for making me read that

georgerussell63 why don’t you take pics like this of me with lewis 🥺 i like him more than max does

→ YourUserName @ lewishamilton you’re upsetting all of your boyfriends tonight

→ lewishamilton i hate you

landonorris does this mean you’re free for me to hit you up

→ maxverstappen1 watch your back on the track

→ redbullracing @ maxverstappen1 christian said you’re not allowed to say that online anymore

→ maxverstappen1 for legal purposes, my previous comment was a joke

maxverstappen1 you’re the only Hamilton for me, schatje

→ YourUserName love you baby

→ maxverstappen1 love you too 💕

→ charles_leclerc @ maxverstappen1 i miss when you loved me

mercedesamgf1 please stop posting these. you’re making the rest of the grid jealous

mclaren please stop upsetting the grid by revealing their affairs. now they’re all crying

williamsracing @ YourUserName for the sake of the race, please stop stealing max from his boyfriends. they can’t drive through their tears

redbullracing we need more content like this, please. if the other drivers are too heartsick, there’s nothing standing in our way

→ redbullracing for legal reasons, this is a joke

[okwonyo]

LOVE ANTHEM, 或 𓈒𓈒 cuddling with them.

( 𝒷 ) INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 7OO fluff established relationship cautions ˚ non-idol au kissing skinship

jiah says : it has been a while since i last wrote headcanons huehue ㅠㅠ hope you enjoy 🪽

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

would smoothly slide his hand in yours when you passe by— eyes still focused on the game he is playing. would then tug closer to him, gently and slowly, before resting his hand on your waist and making sit on his lap.

would wrap his arms around your form, stroking your thigh gently, fingertips brushing on your skin as his free hand’s fingers dance on the keyboard. and when he wins; would hug you tight while relaxing on his chair with a proud smile, even turning around with his chair.

him : “i deserve some reward for my hard work, right?” you : “of course, baby”

JONGSEONG

after landing a playful slap on your butt—to which you would yelp—whereupon he sees you laying on your stomach, would come lay on top of you instead of the mattress. ignoring your pleading for air, would rest his whole weight on you.

would at some point start landing wet kisses on your cheeks, sliding next to you so he can have a better angle and can free you from your agony. would then pull you in his embrace, still kissing your cheeks repeatedly.

him : “i want to eat your cheeks” you : “please don’t, i kinda need that”

JAEYUN

would already be following you around the house for a while. with his starry eyes and kicked puppy expression staring right at your back while you do the most random things ever. telepathically asking you for some cuddles.

his face would enlighten when you finally give him some attention. would open his arms for you to hide in and would sinm his nose in the crook of your neck— smelling your comforting scent. an embrace that will eventually end into long cuddles.

you : “jake, i need to pee” him : “just 5 more minutes, please”

SUNGHOON

would look for comfort in your arms after a long day away from you. it would be heard in the way he sighs in relief as soon as he steps foot in your house, his hurried steps approaching to the bedroom you would be laying in.

would love to be on top of you, his head resting on your chest while your fingers wrap around his hair strands. his hand would often take yours and put your hand palm on his cheek, then would turn his head to kiss it— all over.

him : “i missed you so much” you : “you are such a big baby”

SUNOO

would be really good at making you feel like you are the one who wants to cuddle— when you are, in theory, not. would know that if he stays next to you long enough, shoulder brushing yours but not really, you would soon ache for his touch and end up pressed against him.

would have such a cute smile on his face whenever you cuddle with him. would hold you on top of him as if you were an immense plushie with his arms squeezing your waist tightly while your face is in his neck.

you : “you could just ask instead of putting up a whole act” him : “where is the fun in that?”

JUNGWON

would have no shame or restraint in literally jumping on you the second he sees you lying somewhere without him. his laugh would resonate in the whole room when you let out a loud ‘oof’ and try to push him off of you. putting up a fight for anything with him would become a habit.

would love to tease you whenever you are locked in each other’s embrace: tickling you or pinching your sides when he feels like it— you would not even react at some point. but, would also calm down when you rub his back gently, purring like a cat.

you : “jungwon, i will kick you if you don’t stop” him : “you love me too much to do that”

RIKI

would prefer to cuddle during bedtime, when you are both on the verge of drifting to the dream world and your eyes are too heavy to stay open— when he doesn’t have to verbally ask. his shyness would wear off as soon as the tiredness would show it’s nose.

gently pulling the cover over both of your bodies, would scoot closer and put a single arm around you. then, would pull you close to him, to his chest, to his heart. like a real koala, would cling into you like that during the whole night— even if you end up in the weirdest positions, he would be holding you.

him : “wh’ d’you hate me?” you : “i just need some water”

💌 taglist ─── open, mwah ♡

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 1

Summary: You save Soap's life. It might have ruined yours. But now you're stuck with the 141 and the man named Ghost won't stop looking at you. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Canon typical violence, my attempt at writing Soap's accent, soft Simon, military inaccuracies, canon divergence right off the bat.

A/N: My first COD fic! I hope you guys like it. It will be a slow burn because Reader needs a hug and therapy and Simon is awkward but also needs a hug. Enjoy!

This had been your first vacation in ten years. Ten. You had wanted to wander around London, see the sites, eat pub food, try to see how much the city had changed since you had last visited, ages ago when you had a summer internship at the British Museum. And now you were bleeding out on this shitty, dirty floor. There was shouting somewhere to your left as you hazily stared up at the dark ceiling.

You had made it three days before some guy pulled you off the sidewalk and shoved you into the back of a van. There had been a sharp pain in your neck before the dark came. When you came to, your hands had been tied and you were in the belly of an abandoned tube station, if you were guessing. Your captors were speaking Russian—rapidfire and stilted, but you did recognize some of it. Most of it. Maybe. If your undergraduate studies were still holding up. But you did know something for sure: you were curled up and hiding near a bomb. To keep your mind from wandering about when you were going to be the next hostage shot or when the bomb would explode, you started repeating whatever you heard to yourself, quiet and low. Cities, people’s names, shipments, shipments, shipments. You hadn’t done this in years, your therapist would have a field day, but this was better than the waiting. This was better than the pleading your fellow hostages were doing, begging for their lives.

You kept repeating what you learned. More shipments. More cities.

An immeasurable amount of time dragged on; how many days and nights passed, you couldn’t tell, but you knew exactly how many other hostages your kidnappers had killed before you were the only one left. And you weren’t entirely sure if it was because they had other plans for you or if they had actually forgotten you were there, huddled near the bomb. Perhaps you had taken the saying, “the closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm,” too seriously.

But it mattered little when the fighting started and a too warm hand clapped on your arm. And then the brightest pair of blue eyes were staring at you. The man had the most ridiculous mohawk you’d ever seen but you couldn’t really tell him that, not when he was pressing a finger to his lips. A quick glance down showed his UK flag patch on his vest and you felt the smallest bit of tension slip from your shoulders.

“I’ma get ye outta here, lass,” he said, Scottish brogue winding through your ears.

You only nodded and let him move you into a crouched position. He and another man in a ridiculous hat worked on defusing the bomb, working in tandem on either side as your eyes swept toward the door. You were nearly there. Nearly free.

You were going to get out of here. You were going to live. You were going to see your sister and her baby. You-

-Came to a hard stop when the shooting started.

You curled into a ball behind the bomb as the shouting started but then you heard that ridiculous Scottish accent again. And yes, it was stupid. But you had always been a little stupid. You were on your feet again, hands still tied in front of you, before you could think of anything else to do and ran, shoulder down into the man tussling with the Scot and another man in the dumbest hat you’d ever seen. The man with the gun let out a wet ‘oof’ when your shoulder connected with his side and you both fell to the dirtied floor. You hadn’t even heard the gun go off.

Hadn’t felt anything but a heat blooming across your shoulder.

And then your knees buckled. “Oh.”

A quick glance to the left saw your once white shirt now a dark crimson. Pity. You’d liked this top. Your blood was roaring in your ears but you did remember someone saying the bomb was defused…that was good. Great. Wonderful.

A choked gasp was torn from your throat when large hands clamped over your shoulder and you saw those blue eyes again. “Now, why’d ye go and do that? Made a mess, ye did.”

“Next time,” you ground out between clenched teeth, “I’ll let you get shot.” Dark dots were starting to cloud your vision even as the grip on your shoulder grew tighter. You vaguely heard him shouting for someone to throw him something before he turned back to you. He was bleeding, too, crimson streaked across his face and neck. More of it slithered down his arm.

“We’ll get this cleaned up. Cannae have a bonnie lass bleedin’ out in a place like this.”

And you had to smile. You did, even if you looked absolutely insane, because this was probably the first time in over a decade that someone was nice to you and you had been shot.

And then the Grim Reaper loomed over you, skull bright as he blotted out the light above him.

“Fuck.” The word slurred on your heavy tongue. “Guess I’m dead, then.” The ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on you, even as the light faded and you were out cold.

Your eyes opened slowly, weighed down and scratchy. It took a moment for you to realize you were in a hospital room, small, stuffy, and a worn shade of off-white. Uncoordinated fingers plucked at the thin, bleach-stiff sheets across your hips before you tugged at the neckline of the light blue hospital gown and frowned at the large dressing taped over your shoulder. A single wiggle against the flat pillow let you know you had a matching one on your back. Wonderful.

Well, at least you weren’t dead?

The door opened and a bespectacled man popped his head in. His bright eyes connected with yours for just a moment before the door snapped shut again.

What just happened?

You got your answer a handful of minutes later when your tiny room was filled with several more people, doctors and nurses checking you over and a woman—Laswell, you think she said her name was—staring at you from her place in the corner. She was biding her time, you knew that. Her American drawl had thrown you for just a moment, a stark contrast to the English accents coming at you from all directions. You tried to keep up with all the information they tossed at you, about your stitches, the physical therapy you’d need, how to keep movement to a minimum before helping you into a sling to keep your arm immobilized. It went on and on. The pain meds were keeping you from scratching at your shoulder but it did feel a little like your brain was swimming through your skull.

And three of them said the same thing: “You’re lucky you’re alive. It nearly nicked your subclavian artery and you would have bled out.”

Comforting.

And through it all, Laswell was quiet but when she pushed off the wall, the group of medical professionals dispersed.

“You’ve been through a lot.”

You said nothing as she stepped closer and set a manilla envelope on your bedside.

Her eyes darted to the envelope for a moment, obviously expecting you to take it but she continued on, unperturbed for now, when you did not. “From what I understand, you saved a man’s life and gave them an opening to be able to diffuse the bomb. I would actually say that all of London owes you their gratitude.”

“I doubt I’ll get it though, right?”

Laswell smiled. “Good. You’re smart.” But she still tapped at the folder again.

Fine. You picked up the folder and undid the thin rope closure as best you could with one hand and tipped it open across your lap, spilling paper and pictures across the blanket. One was of the man with the mohawk. And then… “Wait. He’s real?” You plucked one of the pictures up and waved it around like a flag. “I thought he was the Grim Reaper.” A man in a skull mask was staring back at you, large and hulking, and draped entirely in black aside from the SAS patch in the middle of his vest.

“You wouldn’t be the first to think that. But probably the only one to see him like that and live to tell anyone about it.”

Again, so comforting.

You flipped the picture over to see Ghost written in neat, small letters across the bottom. What kind of name was Ghost? He wasn’t a ghost. You flipped over a handful of the other pictures and learned the mohawk belonged to “Soap.” “Gaz” and “Price” soon followed—ah, he was the one with the ridiculous hat. But it was the last picture that had your heart stalling.

Vladimir Makarov was written in that same, small script.

“He’s dead, right?” Your voice shook as you stared down at the picture. “Tell me he’s dead.”

Laswell’s measured silence was all you needed before you hurriedly stuffed the photos and paper back into the folder.

“My flight back to Chicago is leaving on the tenth. What day is it?” You asked, tossing the folder to the foot of the bed. The simple motion had your other shoulder protesting, heat rippling across your chest and down your spine.

“It’s the ninth.”

Relief flooded through you. This would be over soon and you were never going to take another vacation, no matter what your sister told you. “Great. I’ll be out of the country in a couple of hours. Do I need to sign something or-”

Laswell frowned and took a few steps toward you and tension once again wound itself through your spine with each of them. “I don’t think you understand. Makarov’s plan didn’t work because of you-”

“Debatable.”

“-and you saved one of the men who Makarov has a personal vendetta against.”

The heart rate monitor was now leaping all over the place, beeping a sharp staccato into the tense air. You didn’t like this. You didn’t like this at all. “So? Makarov doesn’t know who I am. One of his lackeys grabbed me. He barely saw me.” You had been one of many, another faceless victim to his whims.

But Laswell shook her head. “I guarantee it; he will not forget you.”

Funny. You’d been forgotten by almost everyone else and you were apparently unmissable to a psychopath. “I am supposed to be going home. I want to go home.”

She took another step. “I’m afraid that until Makarov is in custody, it is safer for you to stay-”

“Am I being arrested?” You bit out.

“No.”

“Then I’m free to go.”

Laswell’s lips rolled into her mouth for a moment. “No.”

Traitorous tears stung at your ears. Stupid, so stupid. You hadn’t cried in front of someone else in decades. Tears didn’t help with anything and here you were, crying in a hospital bed in front of a stranger. “I need to go home.”

Another step and she looked down at you, eyes just shy of pitying. “You’ll be dead before you get off the plane.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” She took the folder and opened it again, pulling out one of the papers you hadn’t read and another picture. She set both on your leg with a sigh. “You were taken out of London when you were stable enough to move.”

The next breath stalled in your lungs. “What?”

“Makarov has a long reach. You were wrapped up in it the moment you saved Soap. The hospital room in London that simply had your name on the door was raided. They killed a nurse.” Every new bit of information was a punch to the stomach, leaving you wheezing for breath and throat aching. “Makarov doesn’t do half measures. And he’s in the wind right now and staying quiet since his plan for London failed.”

Something you hadn’t touched in years started to bubble beneath your skin. A rage you hated. The rage that had kept you alive as a kid. “Then do your fucking job and get him. I’m going home.”

“Any word? Movement?” Gaz asked as Simon looked over the print outs of intel and loops of camera footage from the tunnels where Makarov could have fled.

“Nothing.”

Nothing.

Nothing.

He hated it. He hated not knowing.

There were leads, of course. Strings to be pulled on to see where they could go.

But Makarov was in the wind. And every night, he heard the woman on the other side of the thin wall cry whenever she thought no one would hear.

You did not go home. Instead, you were bustled out of the makeshift hospital room and into yet another infuriatingly beige room, your shoulder smarting with the movement even with the sling. At least the baggy sweats they’d let you wear were comfortable. You recognized Soap as Laswell had you sit in a cold metal chair on one side of the table.

“Good ta see ye up and about, lass,” Soap said. The stitches across his face were mostly covered by butterfly bandages that crinkled when he smiled at you. He then pointed at his own sling, barely holding his bulky arm up. “We match.”

You almost returned the smile. Almost. “Glad you’re not dead, too, I guess.”

“I wanted to get a look at ye,” Soap said. “Properly thank ye fer saving my life.”

Your mouth twitched into a small smile. “I think it was a mutual saving. You defuse a bomb, I keep you from getting your brains blown out. We can call it even.”

He laughed, hearty and jovial. “Ye’re tough. That’s good. Ye’ll need it.”

He was trying to be nice to you, you knew that. He seemed nice. Really! But you still felt the snark and sarcasm trying to climb its way out of your throat. You bit it back, probably grimacing the entire time. “I’m not the one shipping off to Kastovia.”

The smile slipped from Soap’s face. “What?”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to read his expression. “I assumed that was where you were going? The guys in the tunnels mentioned it a couple of times.”

“You speak Russian?” Laswell cut in.

What was this line of questioning? You turned as best you could to look at her. “Yeah, sorta. I took a few classes in undergrad.”

“And you didn’t think to mention you overheard anything while you were held captive?”

“You’re CIA. He’s SAS,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder to point at Soap. Your stitches protested immediately, knocking the wind from your lungs for a moment. “I kinda figured you guys had all the information you could get from that shitshow.”

Soap rose from his seat and left the room without a look back as Laswell rounded the table to stare down at you. “You had information and didn’t share it. You know how that looks.”

“I was shot. Did you forget that?” You bit back. “Then you tell me I can’t go home. What was I supposed to do? When was I supposed to offer up any of this? When I was unconscious?”

Laswell’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “You don’t trust me.”

The scoff tore itself out of your throat before you could even try to stop it. Scoffing at a CIA agent probably wasn’t your smartest move, but, again, you knew you were kinda stupid. “Wow. Look at you. That scary CIA training is paying off, huh? Love to see my tax dollars hard at work.”

The door opened again and Ghost walked in, shoulders nearly brushing each edge of the frame.

Your entire body tensed as he quietly neared the table and took the seat Soap had vacated. Laswell nodded at him and he tipped the point of his cloth-covered chin. And then she was gone with a snap of the door behind her. You pulled your gaze back to the man…the behemoth…in front of you. His mask was no less unnerving than it had been in the tunnel when you thought he was the Grim Reaper coming to usher your soul into the ether.

But this close you could see the dark honey of his eyes and that turned something else in the dark shadows of your chest.

And you knew you couldn’t be afraid. Not now.

“Ask me anything,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. But what if they didn’t believe you? What if he really would be the last face you saw, like you had believed in the tunnel? “I’ve nothing to hide.”

He huffed. If it were anyone else, you might have guessed it was a laugh. His eyes, hooded and dark, dragged over you. “We’ll see.” In one swift movement, he placed a handgun on the table and then reached across to grab your uninjured arm. He pulled it toward him before you could even think of pulling back. He twisted his grip on your wrist to have your palm up and only then did he release you.

You knew better than to retreat. You needed them to believe you—you were the victim in all of this. You. Not them. You. If you had to sit here with the Grim Reaper to prove it, you would. But it was when he tugged the glove from one of his hands that you felt your next breath stutter behind your teeth. And you were sure he felt it when he pressed the tips of his fingers against the delicate skin of your wrist’s underbelly.

He was warm. Solid. And oh god were you really this touch starved? That the man tasked with interrogating you—to make sure you weren’t a terrorist—was making you burn all over like a schoolgirl? It didn’t help that you felt his broad legs on either side of yours beneath the table.

Get it together.

He asks you questions and you answer. Truthfully. You listed all the places you’d heard, names you could decipher, cargo, shipments, everything. Anything.

Ghost listened to it all with that same hooded stare anchored on your face. Someone else probably would have squirmed under his gaze but you didn’t. If anything, his immovable presence was weirdly comforting. What was wrong with you?

And when you were done, when you had exhausted any and every bit of information you thought you had squirreled away from your time in the tunnel, the man in front of you simply drummed his fingers against your pulse and stood, putting his gun back in its holster and pulling his glove back on.

Funny, you hadn’t realized there were more bones stitched on them, too. At least he was consistent.

He strode toward the door and then turned back to stare at you again, unblinking. “Stay put.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly allowed to leave.”

His dark eyes narrowed for a moment and he huffed. Was it a laugh? You didn’t know, but you wanted it to be. But he left the room before you could ask.

It had been a risk, he knew, and had done it anyway. She could have been a spy, a trained one, good at deception and emitting pity. But he had felt her heartbeat skitter beneath his fingers, an impromptu lie detector. Simon knew she was being truthful. An open book.

A rare thing in times like these.

Well, open enough for him to believe her answers and her muttered instance that she wasn’t “some sort of Russian plant” because she wasn’t “dumb enough to be a criminal.” She was…something else. Simon wasn’t quite sure what that something was, but he knew that he thought of the curve of her bottom lip when he left the room and reported what he learned to Laswell and Price.

The pair looked at each other, matching looks of knowing on their faces. Her knowing about Kastovia hadn’t been expected but it didn’t seem like she knew that they (Gaz and Price) had already gone and had been led on an infuriating game of hide-and-seek with the transport of the Sarin gas. If the bird had been awake (or more willing to share what she’d heard before), they would have been back on base days earlier because it had been exactly where she’d said they would be.

“We need to keep this quiet. Makarov already knows she’s alive and at least suspects that she heard something. He wouldn’t’ve sent his men to the hospital if he didn’t.” Laswell scratched at her chin. “If any more of her intel pays off, this could be invaluable.”

The two continued, looking over the points Simon had written down after leaving that tiny room. And there had been shipments and their locations, names of people who probably would receive them, and then targets. Possibly. It was so much more than what they’d had when Makarov had vanished into the belly of the tunnel.

“She’s given us gold.”

“Or an unpinned grenade.” Laswell sighed and flipped through the pages again, handing one to Price and they spoke again in low tones. Simon listened, as he always did. They would still be sent out, following those breadcrumbs, with glowing red letters.

Something twisted in Simon’s chest, behind the crooked and dark ribs, and he thought of that curve of her bottom lip. “What happens to ‘er?”

You didn’t mind paperwork. Not really. Was it your favorite thing? No. But it was a fact of life that paperwork was inevitable. You almost liked that most of it was the same: sign here, date here, birthdate here. Easy. Simple. Unchanging.

But you weren’t entirely in love with how you knew you were basically signing your life away as Soap stood sentinel in the corner, his matching sling still around his bulging arm. They’d already “handled” your job, telling your supervisor that you had been injured and would be taking a leave of absence from work.

They promptly fired you.

Laswell winced at that and then said that “they” would take care of it. Who “they” were, you didn’t know and didn’t have the wherewithal to ask at the moment. But she inferred that your bills would be paid by someone else so you didn’t really care. Whatever. You’d been an archivist at one of the many museums in Chicago, cataloging anything and everything that came in. It had been good work, to be fair. You were actually using your degrees and the fact that they had you working overnight was almost a perk. It was nice to not have to worry about coworkers’ feelings or them microwaving fish in the communal microwave when you were trying to work.

But…whatever. It was fine. This was…fine.

You were given three meals a day and sometimes a snack. Tea in the early afternoon, much to your delight. You had a warm bed. Things could be worse.

Whenever the doctors or nurses would come in and check on your stitches and your range of movement, he—Ghost—would just be there. In the background. Waiting. Silent and unmoving.

And the painkillers you were given must’ve been some good stuff because you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Or maybe his unhurried gaze was weirdly comforting. Knowing he was there, was always going to be there, was nice. A weird constant in the upheaval of your life. (And maybe you should call up your therapist after you finally get home.)

You signed your name on the last paper and then managed to stack everything neatly with one arm before handing it to Soap who took it with a small smile. “Ye’re handling this well.”

“Yeah.” Been through worse, is what you could have said. But worse was debatable. At least in some regard. You could handle being fired. You had savings. You could find another job. Your sister always said you had the uncanny ability to land on your feet. You’d let her keep that assumption. It wouldn’t be the first one she’d made about you. “Can I make a phone call now?”

Soap tapped a finger against the papers and his blue eyes were full of pity. You almost hated it. “I’ll ask Laswell.”

Well, that wasn’t a firm no, at least.

It had been a few days since your interrogation with Ghost. You had deduced that you were on a military base of some sort, with the people walking by in uniform and the staccato of gun shots at exactly eight o’clock in the morning, every morning. Probably a firing range. While you weren’t allowed out of your beige hospital room, they were kind enough to bring you a few very well worn novels to help pass the time. Again…it was fine.

The door opened a few minutes later and Ghost and Laswell walked in, a large black brick looking contraption tucked beneath Laswell’s arm. Your heart stuttered for just a moment. A satellite phone?

“You need to understand that anyone you call could be in danger. Used against you.”

The next breath rattled behind your teeth. You had expected that. You knew that. But your sister deserved at least something. “Did you see her in my file?”

“Who?”

“My sister.”

Laswell’s answering quiet was all you needed. Good.

“I’ll keep it quick,” you said, stretching out your good arm toward the phone. “Promise.”

“Any funny business-”

“I’ll expect a bullet between the eyes. Yeah, sure. Can I please have the phone?”

Ghost made that huffing sound again and you felt the corners of your mouth push into a twitching smile for just a heartbeat to two. The phone was weighty in your palm as you plugged in the number and held it up to your ear. It rang twice before… “Hello?”

“Hey, Kirby.”

There was an answering giggle and it shifted a weight on your shoulders. “Hey stranger! I thought you were living it up in London for a few days more? Thought you were gonna call me when you were home.”

“Oh, um. So there’s been a change of plans. I’m gonna stay for a little longer. I’ve been asked to consult at one of the archives here.”

Kirby hummed, crackling the line. “Consult. You’re so important. That mean you left-”

“They fired me, actually.”

She gasped. You imagined her clutching her phone tighter, placing another hand over her heart. She was always so delicate. Outraged on your behalf, too. “No!”

“Yeah. But it’s okay. You said I needed a new job anyway.” You shut your eyes, feeling them burn with tears. Lying to her didn’t feel right. She was the only person in the world you trusted.

“They were awful to you. But, you always land on your feet, don’t you?”

You smiled despite it all, wobbly and crooked. God, you missed her. “I try. But I didn’t want you to worry if you didn’t hear from me for a bit as I get settled here.”

Kirby laughed. “You’re the worrier, not me.”

“That’s true.” You were. And even know, with a bullet wound and a supposed bounty on your head, you worried about your little sister. You might worry about her forever, actually.

“You’ll still be able to make it to the delivery, right?” The smallest bit of trepidation dipped into the syllables. Kirby wasn’t scared often and it twisted at your marrow. “I need you to hold my hand.”

You opened your eyes and looked at Laswell and Ghost, lifting your chin a bit. You were going to be there. Come hell or high water. Or more terrorists. “Wouldn’t miss it, Kirbs. You know that.” You eventually said your goodbyes and “I love you” and “I love you, too” before ending the call with a quiet, “give the little one a hello for me, okay?”

The phone clicked in your hand and you let it slip back into Laswell’s grip when she reached for it. “Any other family you need to call that weren’t in any of your files?” The question was tinged with exhaustion.

You didn’t feel bad. “No. It’s just her.”

Laswell frowned but said nothing else as she strode from the room.

You expected Ghost to follow. He seemed fond of doing that. But he didn’t. His unmoving stare was anchored on you. “Why wouldn’t your file show your sister?”

Well, he certainly cuts to the chase. “It’s a long story.”

His large arms crossed over his broad chest (you ignored how your heart hiccuped. God he was so big.) “We’ve got time.”

Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[theliving-radio]

Big Brother Malleus notices that something is wrong the moment he sees you walking in the hallway.

You look tired, your eyes were having a hard time staying open. Grim was hanging off your shoulder and kept pawing at your face to stay awake. A few times you would bump into a student and immediately started apologizing. Were you trying to rest your eyes while walking?

That wont do.

“My Baby Sibling, is something the matter?” Malleus walked straight into your direction to check up on you.

“Oh? Morning Horton, I’m doing alright! Nothing is wrong.” A lie. It was clearly a lie

Malleus raises a brow and looks over at Grim.

“They had a nightmare last night.”

“Grim!”

“What?! I’m not gonna lie to him! Plus you need rest! You weren’t able to fall back asleep! How is my Hench-human suppose to help me be the most powerful mage, if they can’t sleep well!”

Malleus made a mental note to gift Grim a treat for his honesty later.

“You lost sleep because of a nightmare? That won’t do, come my dear Baby Sibling. I shall help you rest.”

“Oh, Horton that’s all right-,” Malleus ignored you and took your hand in his as he carefully dragged you off with him.

Grim grabbed his notebook and hopped off your shoulder, heading to class now while the dragon fae whisked you away. “Mraaa! You better get some sleep this time!”

You kept protesting against Malleus, saying that you were fine and everything is ok with you. Did he listen? Nope. Not even for a second.

You’re his Baby Sibling who needs their sleep. And as the Big Brother, he’s gonna help you sleep.

Malleus took you all the way to his dorm room, guiding you over to his bed.

“Horton, I promise I’m fine! I need to get to class! Grim will have a hard time without me.”

“Nonsense, you clearly need rest.”

“A day without sleep wouldn’t kill me…”

“No, but it would kill me seeing my own Baby Sibling suffering throughout the day because of a nightmare that haunted them.”

Malleus gently guides you to sit on his bed, you just sit there and stare up at him while he looked down at you expectingly.

“… what?”

“Climb into bed”

“What- no!”

“Why not?”

“Horton, I can survive the day just fine, let me go to class.”

“Ah I see, you need to be in more comfortable clothes.”

With a flick of his wrist, your school uniform turned into a pair of cozy pajamas.

Is he serious right now?!

You were too baffled to say anything as Malleus begins to move you up his bed. He pulled the blankets all the way to your chin when he got you under the covers, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

He stood back and puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his work.

You just looked like a head on a pillow in a sea of blankets.

“There, now you shall be able to sleep properly.”

You blinked up at the dragon fae and try to sit up, Malleus just flicks his wrist again to use magic to make you lay back down.

“Oof! Really?!”

“My Baby Sibling needs to sleep.”

“I can’t just automatically fall asleep!”

“Hm, you’re right.” Malleus began to think for a bit, he then smiles as he pulls a chair from his work desk and sits beside the bed. “Then I shall keep you company while you sleep”

“Horton, that’s sweet and all, but I think this is just a bit too much.”

“I would say it’s not enough. As your Big Brother, it’s my responsibility that my Baby Sibling is well taken care of. And that includes your sleep”

You stare at Malleus for a long time. He wasn’t gonna let you go until you get some sleep in your system.

… and you were very comfortable…

But there was a a darkness creeping in the back of your mind, telling you to not close your eyes. That the events of the nightmare would happen again…

“… I’m scared to fall asleep.”

Malleus eyes widen at your confession, but his expression softens and smiles at you.

“You do not have to fear a nightmare to ever haunt your dreams. I will protect you from them.”

“Because you’re my Big Brother?”

“Exactly.”

You let out a small giggle as you shuffle under the covers, getting yourself comfortable and ready to accept sleep.

“Will you be here when I wake up.”

“Yes, now stop stalling and close your eyes.”

“Hehe, ok. I love you, Big Brother.”

Malleus broke out in a wide smile as he sits up from his chair and places a gentle kiss upon your forehead. “And I love you too, my sweet Baby Sibling.”

The Fae began to hum a soft tune as he watched over you. Once Malleus knew you were fully sleep, he moved a few strands of hair out of your face and placed two fingers on your forehead. He whispers a few words, blessing you with sweet dreams. Malleus goes back to sit down in the chair and picks up a book from his nightstand.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Big Brother is going to stay right here where you need him.

————————————————————————

This was out of the blue, but I had the WORST Nightmare ever! It was too much of a real scenario too, and I’m not gonna get into it. But I love the idea of Big Brother Malleus kidnapping us to just put us to bed because he said so. Lol

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

[thcdoomed]

What fragile things some strong people are. An exterior of stone, but the insides crack and crumble, falling to shambles while anyone looking on is none the wiser. A facade, a lie. Be it by omission or not, the put-together leader she presented was a lie all-along. Beneath everything was a scared girl who was left alone in a world that would eat even the strongest men alive. Left to brave the world's coldness with little but a prayer and vengeance eating away at her heart. Maybe a lesser person would have given up by now, maybe she should have. But just beyond the warmth of the bath before her and the kindly purple-clad wizard who kept her company in this dark hour were the friends she had come to make. Friends who, in many ways, were family. Were all she had. Patches in the deep cracks inside her.

But grief will always eat at her, it is something only time will heal, and time is not something that is on their side these days.

She's grateful, though, for all of them. For their support and their belief in her, even if they had no idea that her heart bled and wept and seized in her chest when she laid her head to rest when there was nothing else to distract her from her thoughts. She's grateful for Gale's exceptional kindness right now, when he had every right to spurn her for nearly attacking him.

She laughs, but there is no joy in it, it's too quick, too curt for that. "Demasc took that from me too. I no longer breathe unless I force it. It's proven incredibly beneficial in my archery, and little else." Her eyes squeeze shut, trying not to think about how inhuman she feels. But he's right, she gets in, feeling the warmth of the water lap at soiled skin. It's almost a shock at first, but she quickly adjusts. "When life stops throwing everything on us at once, I'll rest."

Her mind is still reeling though, visions of death and loss still dancing in her head. They were more vivid than usual and she feels herself sinking in the water to push them out. Even now, even with the truth out there, she works to force the grieving back. She can't allow herself to drown in the emotions and she can't drown in this water, but she can submerge herself so thoroughly that she doesn't want nor need to come back up for air right away. Perhaps it is the guilt of surviving clawing at her insides. The thought that she should have died with the rest of them. Why her? Why did she live with this burden? But she's still here, and no matter the hurt, she doesn't want to die. She wants to survive.

She wants to gut the bastard that did this.

Hearing the soft muffle of his voice from above the water, she pulls her head back up, blood rinsing from her flesh as she reemerged. "I was the fortunate one. He pulled me out of my shell. I would have been content to be a forest hermit, only socializing when I guided people through the woods and mountain pass. Love was the furthest thing from my mind. But he hired me to lead his group of adventurers to safety in the Spiderhaunt, and there was something about him, his charm, his smile," she pauses, her voice caught between grief and fondness, "his stupid, stupid jokes. You all would have loved him. A scoundrel with a good heart." It was something he would say of himself. Claiming to be a troublemaker when he always chose to do good deeds.

If she's not careful, she'll break down right here in this bath of delightful scented oils.

"I don't think he knows I survived. That's the worst part, I was a means to get to Caius. He thought he had killed me in front of him. I was nothing to him. But he won't find me, I will find him, and I will raise my own army against him and I will take from him everything he took from me and then some." There is a dark determination in her voice, a tone that sounds so foreign on her kind tongue. "An ally waits for me in the city to help. Once we defeat the Absolute, I will seek my revenge. Demasc Volkar will die by my hand." Or the quest for revenge would destroy her in the process. Regardless, she had to try. If only she knew that Alden, someone she thought was a friend, had sold their location out to the master vampire. "I couldn't ask you to help when that time comes, we've all been through so much as is, but if you wished to help, I wouldn't turn you down." Gale is a powerful ally to have and an even more powerful friend.

"Lavender is one of my favorites, actually. And rose. They are simple scents but they remind me of home. Of my mother, actually. She grew lavender in the yard, it made the whole house smell pleasant." She laughs again, this time genuinely. "You can turn around Gale, I'm in the bath, no worries."

Gale knows it intimately, the appeal in losing yourself in endless work. He's leafed some novels and tomes, has given fierce chase to words and theories, and as the night lumbered on in its lonesome hours, had burnt through both oil and candlewax. In his tower, he'd become the sole, grave portrait of a ravenous obsession. It had balmed him meagerly, anchoring his mental in the comfort of books, but imagine if he hadn't. Imagine if he'd thought. Imagine had he sat there in the shadows and the dark, his folly in his bones and his guilt on his conscience, every memory hollering. And every doubt in him loud. Madness, he'd wager. A treacherous insanity. Their party's now gathered by a half-cobbled hearth, and he'd have shattered apart like that window to a chapel. Temple glass, he humors. Or cathedral panes. 

Madness, they were spared.

But grief, they were not.

And as Gale gathers his belongings back into his bag, at least his, he knows, he wasn't made to ignore.

"Then by some stroke of luck, you'll be happy to know you're only expected to breathe. We can work up to laurel resting on another foul evening. For now, it would hardly kill you to do away with the semantics. That said, enough with the stalling," he urges. "And get on in."

Even here, the steam off the water clings along his neck. Gale works, hearing the rustling of clothes and the tell-tale ripple of her scalding dip. He clatters on about, back pointedly turned as all manner perfumes start waltzing in the air. However, even as he bumbles, vials click-clacking and stoppers popped in, it's yet the aching of her voice that lingers in his mind...and darkly, somberly, her still-veiled past.

Truthfully, he'd be one hell of a liar to even try at disinterest. Call it the scholar in him, but he boasts an unstoppable, unstemmable, and restless curiosity. Yet, far more than that by both seas and oceans is his unwithering fondness for this tight-lipped soul. It was not at all foreseen, this boldening camaraderie in a new-found friend. But, well, Gale himself is a lover, a man with both warmth and an unstoppable heart, and to hear her story would let him act as her pillar -- her bastion in the fury and tumultuous rain. He can see them still, the flash-crack-bang of that horrendous night. Gods, he had felt like her. There was viscera in his gums. But worse than that, he discerns, were the feelings that surfaced as the adrenaline waned. Hells, that heart-wrenching ache and that filleting regret...

The face of her sire. He recalls that, too.

Nightmarish, Gale thinks. Too haunting and soulless. He startles, tying up his pouch as Dronia's voice stirs like the canopies high up above. Blinking, he hadn't even realized he had held his breath. Oh. "I see," he begins, timbre so unbearably soft. "For what it's worth, I could hardly name a man more fortunate to have held your affections. Even with a thousand years, there'd have never been enough time to enjoy it by your side. Every second spent would have been another second desired." ...still, Gale well knows, he should have had more of it. More and more by several decades! Decades aplenty and tens of springs. Breathing, Gale gathers his words, lingering by the bramble where the rest of their companions are chattering in view. He knows his loves, had kissed and yearned and lost as she had. They'd hardly the same story, her grief a misfortune where he'd been a fool, but to know so keenly that your lover's escaped you... A wedding, she'd said. They could have been wed. Gale frowns, that spawn's red eyes again stark in his memory. He thinks of rubies, garnets, and disastrous greed "Well, you're not exactly a charity as far as I'm concerned. He won't take from you again, and I won't stand here and allow you to suffer a thief. For as much as you've lost, I'd hope you know you aren't fumbling alone. Should he ever find you again, we'll make painfully clear." It's a daunting prospect, surely, to risk the life of her companions to Alden again--but then, what of it, he'd ask? He's not a man to just bolt. They've all their journeys, every one of them dangerous, and for better or for worse, she's Gale to the most disastrous of ends. Huffing, Gale summons a mage hand and nudges forward.

"It is lavender," he tuts, the spectral thing holding his pouch for her. "Though should you have a hankering for something else, feel free to peruse. Admittedly, I'm finding myself tempted to get in there myself. Waste anymore time, and I'll beat you to it. Otherwise, I'm sure shoving you in with thunderwave would do you wonders."

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 4

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 8.6k

warnings: it's the start of summer break woop woop! some backstory on namjoon and his fiancée, tae being jk's wingman, jk in a leather jacket, oof! tae and jihyo meet and instantly hit it off, jk and oc get a bit flirty, explicit sexual content; sex in a club bathroom, making out, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), slight exhibitionism, soft dom jk, brief oral (m. receiving), cum in da mouf, a morning handjob (m. receiving), the gang meets oc and jihyo, hana being hana, the start of mai and oc's friendship, oc gets a bit drunk, jk gives her a piggyback ride, she stays the night for the first time, lots and lots of soft feels at the end !!!

author's note: we're taking a little break from the angst with this one, lol. i'm curious to hear your thoughts ! what do we think of hana, of mai, of tae and jihyo ??? also, my girl oc is letting her guard down y'all !!!! what do we think will happen on the jeju trip 👀👀👀

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @chxiosworld @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the last day of the spring semester for the university staff, with final exams done and dusted and students' grades already published. Jungkook and Taehyung walk side by side, making their way out to the parking lot, kissing the campus goodbye for a month.

They have plans to meet the rest of their friends at some club that opened recently. Jungkook has never really been much of a club goer, but he doesn't have to worry about work on Monday, the weather is warm, and he recently bought a nice jacket that he's been meaning to wear out. They're also meeting up to celebrate Namjoon and Mai's upcoming wedding.

Namjoon and his fiancée, Mai, have been engaged for over a year, and with their wedding rapidly approaching, they thought it would be fun to get everyone together and unwind after all the wedding planning stress. Seokjin's wife, Jisoo, will also be joining, as they finally found someone to babysit their kids for the night.

Jisoo and Seokjin met during their university days. She was in med school while he was getting his postgraduate degree in business management. Jisoo thought it would be cute to set her best friend up with Seokjin's best friend, the two instantly hitting it off. Namjoon proposed during spring last year and they plan to get married in August, which is just two months away.

"Hey, just a heads up; Hana's coming too," Taehyung says, getting his car keys from his pants pocket, wincing slightly at the look on Jungkook's face.

Hana is Jisoo's younger sister, who happens to have a rather obvious crush on Jungkook. She occasionally tags along with the group, always finding an excuse to be on Jungkook's arm all night. She is far too forward for his taste, but Jungkook would never say that to her face, so he just smiles and nods along, tolerating her when he must.

"Great," he mutters sarcastically, preparing himself for a night of pretending to listen to her go on and on about why dying her hair blonde would suit her skin's undertone.

Taehyung stops at his car and notices you walking in their direction to get to your car, the one parked right next to Jungkook's. "Hey, look who it is," he murmurs with a smirk.

Jungkook turns his head, his heart rate rising when his eyes land on you. A soft smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. "Hey."

"Hey, Jungkook," you greet, offering his friend a polite smile. Taehyung grins widely and steps closer, eager to introduce himself properly. "It's ___, right? You teach political science?"

You nod, recognising him as Jungkook’s friend. "That's right, yeah. Is it…Taehyun…?"

"Taehyung actually," he chuckles, clearly the extrovert out of the two men.

"You heading home?" Jungkook asks, turning your attention over to him.

"Yeah. You?"

"My friends are dragging me to some club tonight actually," Jungkook quips with an amused scoff, earning a surprised look from you.

"Wow. Who woulda thought the walls of a club would see Jeon Jungkook," you tease, wondering what it would be like to see him in that sort of environment.

Jungkook laughs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Gotta start the summer off right, I guess. And it's to celebrate a friend's upcoming wedding, so..."

You nod understandingly. You keep it friendly, oblivious to just how much Taehyung already knows about the two of you.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself."

Before Jungkook can respond, Taehyung chimes in, unable to hold his tongue. "Why don't you join us?"

Jungkook looks over at Taehyung with wide eyes. He knows what his friend is trying to do. He's used to Taehyung trying to be his wingman and he appreciates it deep down inside, but the subtle glare he shoots him screams, 'Are you insane?' Taehyung simply smiles, so he looks back at you, noticing the surprise on your face at the sudden invitation. He fiddles with his keys in his hand, feeling like he's been put on the spot.

"Oh, I don't think ___ would want to-"

"Come on, it'll be fun." Taehyung turns to you, feeling confident that he can convince you to join. "You're Jungkook's friend, we'd love for you to join us. We're a lot of fun; you’ll have a good time."

You look over at Jungkook with uncertainty. He offers you a sheepish smile and a shrug, silently agreeing with Taehyung, even if he isn't as forward as his friend. He would have preferred to do things a bit more naturally, but Taehyung's way works too.

It's not necessarily that you don't want to go, but you already have plans with Jihyo tonight. Her date with Mark didn't go well, and after every bad date, she comes over to your place to have dinner and unpack everything that happened.

"I, uhh… I actually have a friend coming over for dinner later. But maybe next time-"

"You can both join us," Taehyung shrugs. He knows he probably seems really forward, but he knows Jungkook is too much of a pussy to actually go for what he wants.

You don't even have to check with Jihyo to know that she'd be more than happy to go. You know that if you reject Taehyung's offer, and then tell her about it later on, she'll just nag you about it all night, and you know she needs a night out after her train wreck of a date. So, with that in mind, you accept his invitation.

"Okay," you murmur, Taehyung's face lighting up as he looks over at Jungkook, the latter man feeling quite surprised that you actually agreed to join him and his friends. You are slightly surprised yourself, but it's a Friday evening, it's the start of summer break, and what's the harm in having some fun after such a long and stressful month.

Taehyung tells you where to meet them and what time, watching you drive off with a satisfied grin.

"Care to explain what all that was about?" Jungkook folds his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhmm, you're welcome. I just got Hana off your back for the night, and you get to hang out with your girl. I just killed both of your birds with one stone," Taehyung grins, patting his friend on the back before walking to his car and getting in. "And hey, maybe her friend’s hot, so that's a bonus for me," he calls out, driving off before Jungkook can argue.

Your stilettos click against the pavement as you get out the Uber, looking up at the packed club, Jihyo reluctantly ending her conversation with the driver before shutting the door. It took absolutely zero convincing to get her to come with you. Taehyung told you to meet them at 9, but you're a bit late because Jihyo decided to wax her legs and armpits for the first time right before you had to leave.

The two of you walk through the crowded club, looking for Jungkook and his friends. The music is booming through the speakers, people are grinding on each other on the dance floor, your dress is short and sparkly, and the smell of alcohol fills your senses. You look through the crowd until you see a familiar face at the bar. Your heart starts to race in your chest at the sight of him. He's wearing a white tank top, baggy jeans and a black leather jacket, his hair styled to show off his forehead. He takes a small sip of his drink as he engages in conversation with Taehyung, and you wish his lips were on you instead of that glass.

"Is he here?" Jihyo asks over the loud music, oblivious to the heat rising in your face.

You nod, keeping your eyes on him. "Yeah. That's him over at the bar. Black leather jacket with the whiskey in his hand."

Jihyo scans the bar area, her eyes widening as they land on him. "Woah. He really is a ten," she muses, nodding in approval before her eyes flicker over to Taehyung, her mouth falling open in awe. "And that's his friend?"

"Yeah, that's Taehyung."

Jihyo scoffs. You told her Jungkook's friend is nice, you didn't tell her he's totally her type – smoking hot. "Thank God I'm wearing a push up bra."

You chuckle and make your way over with Jihyo following closely behind.

Jungkook senses your presence, his eyes landing on you as you make your way over, Taehyung's voice drowning out in the background. His eyes trail from your face down to your feet, his hands suddenly feeling a bit clammy at the sight of you in that short dress. He sets his drink down with a soft smile. "Hey. I was starting to think you wouldn't come."

"I couldn't leave you hanging," you call out over the music, Taehyung turning his head at the sound of your voice.

"___, hey!" His eyes drift over to Jihyo and his tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. She's far prettier than he expected, and his stomach does a little flip as her eyes roam over him. He quickly composes himself and decides to turn on the charm. "You must be ___'s friend," he calls out, holding his hand out to her.

"And you must be Jungkook's friend," Jihyo nods, shaking his hand. Damn, he's even better-looking up close.

"Taehyung," he smiles, holding onto her hand a little longer than necessary.

"Jihyo," she murmurs, holding eye contact.

"Can I buy you a drink, Jihyo?" Taehyung asks, tilting his head with a lazy little grin, neither one of them pulling their hand away just yet.

She looks over at you with raised eyebrows and a smile before nodding and walking off with him, making a mental note to text Mark and thank him for blowing their date.

You and Jungkook both watch them with amused smiles on your faces. "Your friend's smooth," you chuckle, watching them make their way to the other end of the bar.

Jungkook scoffs, leaning his elbows on the bar counter. "Tae's about as smooth as sandpaper."

You laugh, taking a seat next to him. "So, are you gonna offer to buy me a drink as well or...?"

He smiles over at you, his eyes sparkling under the club's dim lights. "I was getting to it...but, uhm...I don't even know your name, though..."

You look over at him with a puzzled smile before you realize what he's doing. You chuckle and roll your eyes, but decide to play along with his little role play anyway. "It's ___."

"___," he repeats in a quiet little murmur, taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "That's a pretty name," he grins, leaning in a bit closer. "You look so familiar. Are you, like, a model or something?"

"Shut up," you laugh, accidentally letting out a little snort. "Do you say that to every woman you meet at a club?"

"Nah," he shrugs, taking a sip of his whiskey, desperately trying to look suave. "Saved that line just for you, babygirl."

"Babygirl? Really?" You cringe, both of you bursting out into laughter.

"Yeah, I know, it felt wrong as soon as it came out of my mouth," he sighs, shaking his head.

"Let's try that again. Do you say that to every woman you meet?"

"Just you, baby." His voice is softer, more sincere. He really means it. He's not the best at flirting, but he’ll do or say anything to make you laugh or put a smile on your face.

You hum, nodding in approval, your stomach doing a little flip at the pet name. "Better."

"I try," he shrugs with a grin, his eyes trailing down to your outfit. You always look good to him, but seeing you in such a short, skimpy dress is doing some funny things to his heart...and his dick.

"You really do look gorgeous, by the way," he murmurs, his eyes slowly trailing back up to your face, his fingers itching to touch you.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," you smile, meeting his eyes.

He scoffs, pretending to be offended. "I was expecting you to be jumping my bones already, but I guess I'll take that."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You look very nice, okay?"

"Thanks," he mumbles, a satisfied grin settling on his face. "Now, can I buy you a drink?"

"I'd love a drink."

"Anything in mind?"

"Surprise me," you shrug.

He calls the bartender over and orders a pineapple margarita. He knows you like tropical fruit, and he didn't want to get you something that would get you hammered just yet.

The bartender makes your drink and sets it down on the counter before you, adding it to Jungkook's tab. You take a sip and hum at the delicious taste. "This is really good."

"Is it?" he smiles, leaning in closer. "Can I have a sip?"

You hold the glass out for him and watch as his lips wrap around the sugary rim, his tongue quickly peeking out to lick the sugar off his top lip.

"Wow, that is good. I should've taken one of those too."

"What about your whiskey?"

He shrugs with a faint smile. "I don't even like whiskey, I just wanted to order it to look cool."

You laugh, finding it quite amusing that someone as hot as him can be this much of a dork. The sound of your laughter makes his smile grow wider, his heart fluttering. He doesn't even seem to notice how many women would kill to be sitting with him because he's too busy staring at you with a dopey look on his face.

You take another sip of your drink, his eyes watching the way your lips move, the way your fingers hold the glass, the way your thighs look in your little dress.

"You know what they say about pineapple, right?" he murmurs with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning over to drape his arm over the back of your bar stool.

"What do they say?"

He leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips lightly brushing against your skin. "Makes your pussy taste sweeter."

Your breath hitches in your throat, almost choking on your drink. "They say that?" you ask, looking up into his eyes with flushed cheeks.

"Mm." It's like a switch has gone off, his persona completely changed. He moves his free hand down to your knee, his fingers slowly trailing up your thigh. "Maybe I should taste it and see for myself if it's true. Y'know...for science..."

You and Jungkook make a beeline for the bathroom, the dim lights concealing you from any wandering eyes. He leads you into one of the bathroom stalls, locking the door behind you. He pushes you up against the stall, his lips on yours in an instant, kissing you hungrily. His hands explore up your thighs under your dress, finally getting to touch you the way he's been wanting to since he laid his eyes on you.

He kisses and nibbles down to your neck, grinding his hips against you, his need for you growing more apparent as a bulge starts straining against his jeans.

Your hands slide up into his hair, moaning softly as he slides his tongue into your mouth.

His fingers trail up to your thong, pulling it aside to run his middle finger through your slick folds. He groans into your mouth as he feels how wet you are. You're already dripping and he's barely done anything yet. He slides his finger up to rub slow circles over your clit. "You're so hot," he mutters, nipping at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You tilt your head back against the stall, biting your bottom lip to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out of you. "Is it...unhygienic that I'm...letting you finger me in a club's bathroom s-stall?" You try to keep your voice stable, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Wanna stop?" he asks, chuckling as you frantically shake your head. He withdraws his hand and brings it up to his lips to suck on his middle finger, tasting your essence. "You taste better than any pineapple I've ever tasted," he hums, his eyes growing dark with desire.

Your arousal overpowers any concerns you might have had, feeling a jolt of excitement run down your spine. You watch as he slowly drops down to his knees before you, his hands disappearing under your dress to pull your thong down your legs, putting the wet string of fabric in the back pocket of his jeans.

He licks his lips at the sight of you, his hands trailing up your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. The smell of your arousal hangs heavily in the air as he lifts one of your legs and drapes it over his shoulder, his hands splayed over the backs of your thighs.

"Gotta be nice and quiet for me, yeah?"

You look down at him, your cheeks flushed, pupils dilated. You nod quickly, gasping as he presses a light kiss to your clit, your stomach muscles tensing momentarily.

He chuckles, watching you grow a bit flustered. He feels powerful being on his knees in front of you, knowing that he holds such an effect over you. He starts slow, lightly kissing your clit, his tongue peeking out to give you a few gentle licks, keeping his eyes up to watch your face.

He watches the way your lips part and your eyebrows furrow, your breath hitching in your chest as he starts lapping at your pussy. The music thumps through the walls, people's voices echoing just outside. If someone were to hear you moan, they'd know that he's getting you off, eating your pussy like it's the tastiest thing on earth.

He lifts your knee higher to get better access to your pussy, your eyes rolling back in your head as he sucks on your clit.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you moan, trying to be as quiet as possible.

He feels a surge of satisfaction that he can make you squirm in pleasure. He moves his tongue with a fierce determination, his fingers digging into your thighs, his cock straining against his jeans at the sound of your breathless moans.

He reaches down and undoes the button of his jeans with one hand, unzipping it to pull his cock out, needing some relief. He starts lazily stroking it while his free hand slides between your thighs, pushing his index and middle fingers into your sopping entrance.

The sight of him pleasuring himself, mixed with the sensations of his tongue and fingers is almost enough to make you cum right that instant. You hold onto the door of the stall with one hand, the other gripping his hair as your high starts creeping up on you.

"Mmm...'m gonna cum," you whine, biting your bottom lip so hard, you almost draw blood.

He curls his fingers inside you, finding that spongy spot that makes your knees go weak. His tongue laps at your clit, your body tensing and trembling, trying desperately not to scream out as your orgasm suddenly washes over you, harsh jolts of pleasure rushing through you.

He rides you through it, pressing soft kisses to your throbbing pussy and inner thighs, looking up at you with a dazed look in his eyes. He stands up and licks his lips and fingers clean, his hard cock standing tall through his open zipper.

"Damn," he mutters, his voice slightly out of breath. "That theory might be right."

You let out a breathless huff of laughter, your legs tingling, your pussy pulsating. He steadies you with his strong hands on your hips, letting you taste your juices on his tongue as he kisses you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps. "Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, feeling his cock twitch in your palm, his breath hitching at the feeling.

He can only nod, too lost in his own lust to speak, his mind completely clouded by desire. He spins you around, pinning you to the stall, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls your hips back, grinding his cock against your ass.

"Gonna let me fuck this ass one day?" he teases, knowing you'll shut him down like you have before.

"Don't even think about it," you scoff, teasingly pushing your ass back against him.

"Worth a shot," he grins, tapping the head of his cock against your asscheek before aligning it with your entrance, a soft moan slipping from your lips as he pushes it in.

His eyes close as he sinks into you, his forehead falling forward against your shoulder. He groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, your tight, wet heat sucking him in. "Shit, you're so tight," he mutters, thrusting into you, his hands sliding up to your chest, giving your breasts a squeeze over your dress.

The pace is slow and steady at first, the constant thump of the bass and the muffled voices outside serving as a reminder that you're in a public bathroom. He soon starts to get lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him, his thrusts getting a little less controlled. He lets out soft grunts into your ear as he fucks you from behind, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.

Then the sound of people entering the bathroom snaps him back to reality, his thrusts slowing down. He quickly covers your mouth with his large hand, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh, baby," he whispers softly, the tip of his cock still sitting snug between your walls.

You squeeze your eyes shut and concentrate on not being too loud, his cock inside you making it increasingly difficult. He slows his thrusts down to a languid rhythm, the thrill of other people nearby making it feel sexier, dirtier. "Good girl," he whispers, giving you a particularly deep thrust, his palm pressed firmly over your mouth to muffle your moans, his free hand moving down to rub tight circles over your clit.

You hear the sound of the girls' voices as they touch up their makeup at the sinks, mixed with the loud thumping music outside. Jungkook doesn't let up, thrusting harder to test your ability to keep quiet. It makes your head spin and your pussy throb.

After what feels like an eternity, the girls leave the bathroom, and it's like your body knew to wait, because your orgasm hits you almost immediately. Jungkook keeps thrusting, chasing his own high. You know he's close, his moans growing louder, his thrusts getting sloppier.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum...where do you want it?"

"In my mouth."

He quickly pulls out and watches as you drop to your knees before him, wrapping your lips around his cock. You suck on the head and stroke the shaft, looking up at his through your lashes.

One look down at you and he's cumming with a low groan, his hips stuttering as he empties himself in your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your hair. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, watching as you swallow every last drop, his stomach muscles tensing and relaxing as you lick him clean.

He helps you up and grabs some toilet paper to clean you off. He makes sure your dress is straight and your hair isn't messed up before you leave. As you're about to leave the bathroom stall, he pulls you back and gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up to give you a slow, deep kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue, mixed with some of your pineapple margarita.

"You taste good," he hums.

"Yeah? What do I taste like?"

"Pineapple and cum."

"You're disgusting," you laugh.

He chuckles, giving you one last peck before pulling away and opening the stall door for you, landing a quick slap on your ass as you walk out in front of him.

Jungkook leads you through the crowd of sweaty people to get to his friends' booth, the guys all there already. He knows his friends can be a bit much sometimes, but he has a feeling they’ll like you. Taehyung and Jihyo are already at the booth, the two getting well acquainted.

"Everyone, this is ___," he calls out over the music, sliding into the booth to sit next to Seokjin and Jisoo.

"Kook, I didn't know you have a girlfriend now," Mai smiles over at you, looking excited to meet you.

"Oh, I’m not- ...we’re just friends," you murmur with a faint smile.

"Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought…" she trails off, feeling a bit bad for assuming.

"It's okay," you chuckle, sliding in next to Jungkook. "It’s nice to meet you all," you smile, immediately being welcomed by his friends. You learn who each of his friends are, that Jisoo is Seokjin’s wife, that they have two kids, and that Namjoon and Mai are the happy couple about to get married. They all ask you a bit about yourself, curious to know who Jungkook’s lady "friend" is.

"You work at the university too, right?" Jimin asks, getting acquainted with you straight away.

"Yeah, I teach political science," you nod, quickly learning that he’s the outgoing one Jungkook told you about before.

"That's impressive," Namjoon muses, his arm slung around Mai’s shoulders.

Jungkook leans over to talk to you over the music, giving you a little insight of each of his friends. "Seokjin is the CFO of YJ Tech and Jisoo is a cardiologist."

"Wow," you quip, giving Jisoo an impressed look. "A cardiologist? That’s impressive."

"Please," Taehyung scoffs playfully, shrugging his shoulder. "A PhD is just as impressive as an MD."

"So, you're saying that teaching literature to 20 year olds is equally as impressive as doing open heart surgery?" Jimin asks, shaking his head in amusement.

"You're saying it's not?"

"Right, because if I’m having a heart attack, I want you there to read me a poem."

While the attention is now on Jimin and Taehyung's bickering, Jisoo's sister, Hana, turns her attention over to you. She has been silently watching you for a while, watching the way Jungkook leans in to whisper in your ear, the way he smiles whenever you speak. It makes her stomach twist in jealousy, and she's having a hard time hiding it, basically piercing you with her eyes. With everyone else preoccupied, she uses the opportunity to finally speak up.

"So, ___ was it? I'm Hana."

You look over at her, offering her a polite smile, completely oblivious to her one-sided animosity towards you. "It's nice to meet you."

She gives you a curt smile, her eyes flickering over to Jungkook. "Kookie, you never told me about your friend before. You guys seem...close."

Jungkook picks up on her snarky tone, but he ignores it. "We are, yeah," he murmurs, looking over at you with a little smile.

Hana looks between the two of you, mentally rolling her eyes. "Jungkook, did you notice I cut my hair? It looks good, right?"

He sighs, giving her a half-hearted smile. "It looks nice, Hana."

She smiles, fluffing her bob, her long, manicured nails tucking some of it behind her ear. She's a pretty girl, with sharp features and trendy style. She's quite confident, so she can't understand why Jungkook's eyes keep drifting over to you and not her.

"I love your hair," you smile, your tone soft and sincere. "I don't think I could pull off a bob."

"Yeah, well, not everyone has the face for it."

You're a bit taken aback by her tone, but you don't read too much into it, instead turning your attention back to Jungkook. He gives you a smile, his fingers trailing up your thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You have the face for any hairstyle," he whispers, causing your cheeks to heat up.

Jisoo and Mai on the other hand are far more welcoming than Hana, the two immediately hitting it off with you. Mai especially has taken a liking to you, the two of you finding a comfortable rhythm as you get to know each other. You find out that you have a lot in common. She's great to talk to, she's super funny, and she's stunning, so you see why Namjoon is head over heels for her.

"___, c'mon, let's go do some shots!" she squeals, dragging you along with her to the bar. Jungkook watches the two of you with a soft smile on his face, chuckling as you look back at him with wide eyes. It's nice to see his friends getting to know the woman he thinks so highly of, and he hopes this is a step in the right direction for you and him.

Some of the guys and Jisoo go off to get some drinks, and Taehyung and Jihyo hit the dance floor together, leaving Hana alone with Jungkook. She gets up and slides into his side of the booth, sitting closer than he would like.

"Long time no see, stranger. You too busy with your new friend to send me a text?"

Jungkook clears his throat and shoots her a curt smile, wishing he were anywhere else right now.

"I've been busy with work, Hana," he scoffs. "And ___'s not a new friend. We've been friends for four years actually."

"You've never mentioned her before."

"I didn't think I had to," he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, brushing her fingers along his bicep, her long nails lightly trailing along the leather of his jacket. "You should hit me up some time...when you're not too busy. I could help you unwind a bit," she purrs, looking up at him with her sultry eyes.

"That's okay, I don't think I need to unwind."

"You're such a stick in the mud," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "You should loosen up a bit. Have some fun once in a while."

He scoffs, his eyes trailing over to you at the bar, watching the way you laugh and chat with Mai, how pretty you look when you're carefree, the way your eyes subtly drift over to him when you think he's not looking.

"Believe me...I have plenty of fun," he murmurs, unable to take his eyes off you.

You end up having way more to drink than you initially planned, you and Mai downing shot after shot. With every shot Mai pushes into your hands, the more fun things start to feel.

"So! You and Jungkook," Mai grins after downing another shot of tequila. "What's the situation there, hm?"

"The situation?" you ask, your eyes subtly widening. "What do you mean?"

Mai chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She can tell the question caught you off guard a bit, but she genuinely wants to know. She isn't trying to pry or make you uncomfortable when you just met a while ago, but she isn't one to beat around the bush.

"Come on, don't play coy," she scoffs, giving you a pointed look.

"We're just friends," you mutter with a faint chuckle. "We work at the same university, we get along great, we're friends. Simple as that."

Mai raises an eyebrow at your answer, her intuition telling her there's more to the story than you're letting on. She grins at you, a knowing look in her eyes. "Oh really? Just friends, huh?" She glances in Jungkook's direction for a brief moment before returning to you.

"Mhm. That's all it is." You immediately down another shot, avoiding her eyes.

Mai studies you for a moment, her gaze quite perceptive. She can see there's a bit of defensiveness in the way you brush off her question, but she decides not to press any further, not wanting to put you on the spot. "Alright, alright...if that's what you say," she says with a small smirk, although she knows there's more to the story. Your gazes linger a bit too long for you to be 'just friends'.

You roll your eyes with a faint chuckle, turning the conversation over to her. "You and Namjoon, though. You make a great couple."

"Thanks! We are kind of adorable, aren't we?" She looks down at her ring and her expression softens. It's clear she's truly smitten with him, and him with her.

"How long have you been together?"

"We've been together for about seven years now," she smiles fondly. She leans her elbow on the bar counter, resting her chin in her palm. "I swear it feels like I've known him my whole life. I can't wait to marry him."

The subject of weddings and marriage is a bit of a sore subject for you, but you don't want to take away from Mai and Namjoon's moment, so you nod and smile, not wanting to dwell on your own misfortune. "I can tell. You're good together."

"Thank you," she murmurs with a soft smile. "Speaking of the wedding, we're actually taking a little pre-wedding trip to Jeju in two weeks. My parents have a beach house there and they never use it so we thought it would be fun to get everyone together. You should come!"

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting an invitation from someone you met an hour or two ago. "Really? You want me to come?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun! You can come as Jungkook's plus-one," she smiles, clapping her hands together in excitement before reaching over to take your hands in hers. "Will you?"

You're a bit skeptical about spending three days in Jeju with Jungkook and his friends, who you just met, but Mai seems so happy and you don't want to disappoint her. "O-Okay...yeah, I'd love to."

Mai orders another round of shots as a little celebration for you agreeing to join them on their trip, and by the time you finish them, you're both too tipsy to care about how loud you're both laughing or how bad your headache will be tomorrow.

When Jungkook comes to look for you, he finds you and Mai toppling over the bar counter in laughter about something she just said.

"Hey. How much did this one make you drink?" he asks with an amused smile, finding it kinda cute how drunk you are. He's not used to seeing you like this, but you seem to be having fun.

"Hey! Mai invited me to Jeju! Apparently I'm your plus-one!"

This is news to him, but not necessarily bad news. In fact, he's quite happy to hear that you'll be joining him on the trip.

"That's great," he nods with a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

"I'm gonna go find Joon!" Mai says, giving you a few flying kisses before hurrying off to find her fiancé and presumably make out.

"You're pretty drunk. Maybe we should get you home," he smiles, gently rubbing your back.

"Nooo," you whine, dramatically tilting your head back to look up at him. "I don't wanna go home. I wanna dance. I love this song!"

You get up too fast and stumble, holding onto Jungkook for support. He holds you by your waist, making sure you don't trip over your high heels. "Okay, missy. I think I should get us an Uber."

He leads you out the club, shooting his friends a quick text to let them know he's heading out. The cool evening breeze hits you as you stand on the sidewalk, making you shiver. Jungkook notices, so he quickly removes his leather jacket and gently drapes it around your shoulders, clearly not bothered that he's wearing a thin tank. He'll stand in the cold if it means you're warm.

He orders an Uber to his apartment, standing with you in the cool evening air, his free arm resting around your waist to make sure you don't trip or stumble.

"Where are we going?"

"My apartment. You can stay over and I can drive you home tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Usually, you wouldn't stay the night at his place, but it's not usual circumstances. You're drunk, your feet hurt, and you just want to lie down, so you simply nod and give him consent to take you back to his place.

"What about Jihyo? I should text her."

"I just saw her with Tae with a minute ago. They seemed pretty cozy," he chuckles. "He said he'd give her a ride home, but you should probably still text her to let her know you're leaving."

You get your phone out and try to text her, but the keyboard looks a bit blurry, so you opt for a voice message, getting a thumbs up and an eggplant emoji in return.

The Uber eventually arrives and Jungkook holds the door for you, helping you inside before sliding in next to you. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder the whole way back to his apartment, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knee. "You sleepy?"

You nod, your eyes already starting to droop.

When the Uber drops you at the front of his apartment building, he sees the way you wince as you try to walk to the entrance, so he silently kneels down before you and helps you out of his heels, letting them dangle from his fingers as he turns around and gestures for you to get on his back.

You look down at him with a faint smile, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him give you a piggyback ride up to his apartment. "Thank you," you mumble into his neck, his cologne filling your nose.

"You don't have to thank me, baby."

The pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally, so sweetly, and usually you'd make a little joke or tease him about it, but you don't. You smile and try to ignore the butterflies going crazy in your stomach.

He gently sets you down when you reach his apartment, getting his keys from his jacket pocket to unlock the front door. He leads you inside, just like he normally would when you're over here, but this time he's not rushing to undress you or stick his tongue down your throat. His touches are gentle, and slow, and soft as he leads you to his bedroom and helps you change into an old t-shirt of his. He gets some wet wipes from the bathroom and gently removes your makeup for you. He puts toothpaste on his spare toothbrush for you and stands by your side while you brush your teeth. He goes to the kitchen and gets you a glass of water and an Advil for the headache he knows you'll have tomorrow morning, making sure you drink it.

He pulls back the duvet for you and helps you get settled in. He gently lays the duvet over you and brushes some of your hair out of your eyes, looking down at you with so much care and protectiveness. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches as you try your best to keep your eyes open, his smile growing wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

"So, you're joining us in Jeju, huh? How exactly did that happen?"

"Mai invited me. She's sweet. I think we really hit it off. We took a lot of shots," you mumble sleepily.

"Yeah, I saw," he scoffs. "That's why you're so drunk."

You chuckle, your eyes slowly falling closed.

"I'm really glad you're coming, by the way."

"You are?"

"I am," he murmurs softly, his gaze lingering on your tired face. He likes seeing you in his bed, a peaceful look on your face, your cheeks still flushed from the alcohol, your hair splayed over his pillow. You're almost too pretty to be real. He watches you for a while before reluctantly getting up to change out of his clothes.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he gets up to go and change in the bathroom, smiling up at him when he returns in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. Your expression changes to one of confusion when he gets a pillow and turns to walk to the living room.

"Where're you going?" you ask, your voice soft and sleepy.

"To sleep on the couch. I know you don't do the whole 'sleeping in bed together' thing, with your rules and all..."

He's right. You don't do the 'sleeping in bed together' thing. So why do you feel so disappointed that he's going to be sleeping on the couch instead of the other side of the bed?

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, y'know. This is your home. You should sleep in your bed...with me..."

He stops in the doorway, looking over at you with wide eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He never thought he'd ever hear those words coming from your mouth, and he isn't sure if he's the drunk one or if you actually said it.

"I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not."

He stays in the doorway for a few seconds, thinking this can't be real, but when he keeps blinking and you don't disappear, it sets in that it's real. He slowly makes his way back to bed, setting his pillow down and carefully getting under the covers with you, keeping a respectful distance. He has seen you naked and bent you in unspeakable positions, but he knows that simply sleeping in bed together is different for you. He knows that it's about more than what it appears to be, so he keeps a distance because you simply being here is enough for him.

Jungkook turns to face you, watching as the moonlight shines in through his bedroom window, a silvery glow illuminating your face. He feels a strong urge to touch you, not in any way sexual, but to just be physically closer to you. When you slowly turn your back to him, he's met with disappointment, but your next words cause a smile to break out onto his face.

"Can you give me back scratches?" you mumble sleepily, you voice sounding a bit groggy from the alcohol and exhaustion.

He stays still for a moment, just wanting to bask in this moment a bit. He slowly inches closer and reaches out to slide his hand up under the fabric of the oversized t-shirt you're wearing, and ever so lightly run his nails along the skin of your back. You're warm, and soft, and your skin is stained with his scent as you lay in his clothes, on his bedsheets. He doesn't say anything because words aren't necessary in this moment. He just slowly runs his nails over your back and listens as your breathing starts slowing down.

Jungkook doesn't fall sleep until it's well into the early hours of the morning. Not because he wasn't tired, but because he forced himself to stay awake. If he allowed himself to fall asleep, the moment would end, so he watched the back of your head until his eyes burned with exhaustion, and he caressed your back until his arm dropped limply to the mattress. He thinks that's what love is. He was never confident enough to say that he's ever fallen in love before, but if anyone were to ask him about love, he'd tell them about you. It was never obvious that he would fall for you. It didn't happen all at once. It wasn't immediate. He thought you were pretty, and he liked your company, but then somehow you slowly crept up under his flesh and made a home for yourself in the depths of his chest. He knows that he loves you, and if you are ever to be laid to rest in the dirt and soil, he will be envious of the earth that gets to hold your body.

You're still quite groggy when you wake up. The sun looks like it has already been out for a few hours, and if it didn't make your head hurt, you'd probably appreciate it. You slowly turn around to find a sleeping Jungkook. He's cute when he sleeps. His lips are pouty, his cheeks flushed, his hair a little bit messy. You realize that you've never seen him asleep before.

You don't get to enjoy it for too long before he starts stirring awake, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He smiles when his eyes land on you, and you mirror his expression. That sunlight streaming in through his window doesn't feel so annoying now that it's illuminating his face, making his glassy eyes sparkle.

"Morning." His voice. It's deep, a little raspy and husky, and it makes your thighs rub together.

"Morning."

"How're you feeling?"

"Not too bad. My head hurts a bit but I'm okay," you smile, inching a millimetre closer. "Thanks for letting me stay over. I probably wouldn't have been able to find my keys in my purse last night anyway."

He chuckles, a low rumble coming from deep within his chest. "It's no problem. You can stay anytime you want."

If it were up to him, you'd stay every night.

You watch as the duvet slides down to reveal his chest and arms, the muscles involuntarily flexing and relaxing. You've always liked his body. He's just the right amount of muscular. His skin is soft and smooth, and when he cums, he has this thin sheen of sweat that makes him glow.

You've barely woken up, you shouldn't be thinking about what he looks like when he cums. But you do, and you can't seem to think about anything else at the moment.

You slowly inch closer to him, your chests almost touching. You look up at his face, and the sleepy smile that resides there tells you he knows what you're doing and he welcomes it. He stays silent as you gently run your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans into your touch, looking a bit like Miso when you pet her. He doesn't say anything when you slowly trail your fingers down his neck and chest, making a slow descent down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Only when your fingers inch inside does he speak.

"What're you doing?" he asks with a lazy grin.

"Wanna say thank you for last night," you whisper, leaning in to softly kiss his neck, your fingers trailing down to his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

"You don't...have to," he sighs, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I want to," you whisper, tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants. "Take these off."

He reaches down and slides his sweatpants down his legs, having forgone boxers last night. He's on his back, with the duvet pushed down to his thighs, the sun heating up his skin. He has a bit of morning wood, so it makes it easier for you to wrap your fingers around him, his skin feeling warm and soft beneath your touch.

You start languidly pulling and pushing your hand up and down his shaft, his cock hardening in your hand. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing growing ragged.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah...feels...feels good, baby..."

You lean your body up on your elbow while stroking him, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and jaw. You quickly pull away to bring your hand up and spit in it, the lubricant making it feel even better. You glide you hand up and down his cock, twisting your wrist at the tip.

"Mmm...don't stop," he groans, his voice husky from sleep. He subtly rolls his hips up to meet your strokes, his abs flexing as the pleasure rolls through his body. He slowly opens his eyes to look up at you, his gaze filled with lust and affection. He brings his hand up to bring your face closer, capturing your lips in a soft, languid kiss. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, seeking entrance into your mouth.

You part your lips and let him lick into your mouth, his tongue brushing against yours. You stroke him faster, your fist tightening around him. His tip is already leaking, the head turning a light pink.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes squeezing shut, his fingers sliding up under the t-shirt you're wearing to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"This is a really...nice way to s-say thank you," he murmurs, his voice shaking, his thighs tensing.

"Yeah?"

"Mmmm...feels s-so good..."

His head falls back against the pillows with a soft thud, finding it hard to focus as you speed up your hand. He looks like he's struggling to keep his eyes open, the expression on his face absolutely blissful.

"Fuck, I'm close," he whimpers, his hand involuntarily squeezing your breast. His face is scrunched up in pleasure, his eyebrows are furrowed, his hair is messy. His cock leaks profusely, the head turning a darker red colour. It's a beautiful sight to see, him writhing in pleasure, his muscles tensing, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries to prolong the pleasure.

You lean in to whisper in his ear, your teeth nipping his earlobe, your breath hot on his neck.

"Cum for me, Jungkook..."

It's like a dam breaks, thick white ropes of cum painting his abdomen and chest, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. A string of curses falls from his lips, his body jerking as the aftershocks of his orgasm flow through him.

You run your middle finger through his cum and bring it up to your lips, licking it clean.

"You taste good in the morning."

He looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a goofy smile on his face. He lifts his head to press a tender kiss to your lips, his cock twitching against his stomach. Watching you lick his cum off your fingers is such a turn-on, it's almost embarrassing.

"I feel selfish not returning the favour."

"It's okay," you smile. "I just wanted to do that for you."

You run your fingers through his hair, watching the way his eyes fall closed once more, his body relaxing into the mattress. He has a glow to him, and you didn't think it was possible, but he looks even more handsome right after he cums.

The two of you stay like that for a while before reluctantly getting up to go clean off. He takes a shower while you wait in the living room, wearing last night's dress and heels. While he's in the shower, you think back to the night before, the feeling of his nails on your back, the smell of his bedsheets, how perfect his t-shirt fit. It all makes your stomach feel funny. You smile to yourself as you think of him, how gentle and caring of a man he is.

When he walks out into the living room wearing a fresh set of clothes, his hair styled neatly, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, your heart beats a little bit faster, and when he drives you home, you look over at him with a soft look in your eyes. He stops at a cafe on the way to your apartment and you get two breakfast bagels, even though it's already nearly noon. You insist on paying and he fights you on it, quickly handing the cashier his card before you manage to get yours out of your purse. When you sit in his car in the parking lot and eat your bagels together, your heart feels light and the conversation feels easy, your laughter and teasing remarks filling his car.

When he parks his car outside of your building and walks you up to your apartment, you don't feel that anxious pit in your stomach that you would normally feel after spending a bit too much time with him. So, when you stop in front of your door and he bids you goodbye, you gently grab his wrist before he can turn around and walk away. You stop him, and you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his neck and you kiss him slowly and tenderly. You kiss him until you both have to pull away for air, and then you give him a few more kisses before pulling away with a little smile.

"What was that for?" he whispers, his smile mirroring yours.

"Another 'thank you', I guess."

He leans in and presses one final kiss to your lips, his hands holding your waist, his nose brushing against yours as be reluctantly pulls away.

"That was 'you're welcome'."

< Part 3 || Part 5 >

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Denial

Co-written with the gorgeously talented @gravid-transluna Thanks so much for picking up this RP starter, so happy we’re collaborating and writing fics. I’m having a blast! 💜 [fpreg, 7.7k words, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth]

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Alex had a million and one things to do in the office before she went on maternity leave. The day was disappearing fast and she’d barely sat down; with back to back meetings, numerous phone calls, it was non-stop. It seemed her body wasn’t too keen on being pushed so hard this late in her pregnancy, if the constant braxton hicks were anything to go by, but she powered through assuring herself that she’d be resting soon. Just get through today.

The Exec waddles into the lift, heading to a meeting room a few floors below. The doors were just about to close before a young employee jumped in lightly after her. They stood in relative silence facing the exit, until the sudden screech of metal clanged all around them. The floor shook, jolting suddenly, and the lift was brought to an abrupt halt.

Alex’s curled hair swung around her face as she glanced at the tiny screen which usually displayed the floor level - it was now flashing a warning error image. “Eugh, is the lift broken?” Alex gruffed, annoyed.

“Looks like it.” The anxious looking subordinate replied, clearly worried and apprehensive at the thought of being trapped in here. “H-Have you got your phone with you?”

“Damn. No, it’s on my desk. You?” Alex asks, frustrated her pregnancy brain had struck again, making her forget something as fundamental as her phone. Seeing the other woman’s expression Alex quickly realised neither of them had a phone.

Thankfully the lights stayed on, but the metal box quickly started feeling too small. Another cramp rolls across Alex’s large, full-term, belly and she can’t help but grimace.

“Oof…mmmnghh….” A moan slipped out under her breath, she rubbed the side of her twinging bump as the other hand automatically reached to the wall of the elevator for stability. “Hooohooo… not now…” Alex whispered.

The other woman looked at her nervously.

Colleen had two fears: contained spaces and her boss, Alex. Unfortunately for her, she was trapped in with both of them today. Alex’s pregnant belly straining the buttons of her work blouse did nothing to diminish her fearsome personality; if anything motherhood had only made her more intimidating, still a commanding presence in a roomful of men even with a swollen, overdue baby belly hanging off her frame.

Worse, her boss seemed a little more than uncomfortable in this situation. She’d seen her bite receptionists’ heads off her a wrong coffee order, but still, seeing Alex wince and rub her belly, which seemed to have dropped even lower this week, she felt compelled to hesitantly ask, “Ma’am, is everything alright? I’m sure they’ll realize we’re in here eventually.”

Alex gave Colleen a quizzical look, but on seeing where her colleague's gaze was, she realised she was rubbing the right side of her large pregnant stomach. She stopped, letting her arm fall limp at her side.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied curtly. “I just don’t have time for this today.” She sighed and looked around the cramped space, what she was looking for she didn’t know, but there must be someway to get someone’s attention and get them out of there.

She knew she was cutting it fine; both by how late she was going on maternity leave but also with how much she was trying to cram in to her last day. Her feet were aching in her 3inch heels having been on her feet for most of the day, in meetings and presentations and walking around the office trying to make sure everyone in her team was well equipped to continue things during her absence. She was heading down to the third floor for her next meeting with the team leaders, that was if the lift hadn’t so inconveniently broken down.

“So you don’t have your phone on you or any method of communication at all?” Alex griped, asking her mousy employee yet again. Hoping the woman would miraculously have a way of contacting the security team or something.

The baby in her womb seemed just as uncomfortable as Alex in this small space, shifting and kicking harshly against her taught and stretched skin. His head was sitting so low in her pelvis it felt like her hips were being pulled apart. She’d be happy when this pregnancy was over, she was done playing host, she wanted her body back. Though she continued to dress in her staple pencil skirt, blouse and heels, pregnancy be damned.

Alex began to pace around the room, finding herself needing to move, shifting the aching from her hips. Another braxton hicks decided to add to her problems, she huffed under her breath and faced away from the doors into the corner, blowing out a silent exhale through the twisting pain.

Colleen could tell by the way that Alex’s gaze flicked over her that she probably only recognized her face by sight and not by name. She seemed impatient, which wasn’t unusual for such a busy, ambitious, work-minded woman, but there was something else in her impatience, an almost shifting restlessness that seemed to match the restless movements in her packed womb. The fabric of her blouse was almost see-through, stretched so thinly around her massive swell, and Colleen could observe visible ripples against the tight skin of her belly. She winced. Colleen wasn’t at an age where she had seriously considered children, but her respect for her boss had grown immensely, seeing her waddle around the office in her pencil skirt and blouse, seemingly as efficacious as ever.

Alex’s restlessness became even more pronounced when she turned away from Colleen, as though hiding her big belly and whatever was going on inside it.

“I don’t have my phone,” Colleen said helplessly, hoping it wouldn’t result in a chewing out. “I left it in my handbag on my chair.”

Alex let out a disgruntled sigh, half from annoyance at her staff’s serious lack of organisation - who goes anywhere without their phone anyway? - but also from the way in which this false contraction was starting to bite.

The practice pains had been a consistent thorn in her side all day and it was really starting to get on her nerves. She’d successfully managed to grin and bear it through this morning's presentation to the board but by lunchtime they were starting to take her breath away. Still, Alex carried on. There was just too much to do and not enough time. It was why she was working right up to her due date, not that she told the company that. They’d have forced her out weeks ago if they knew she’d technically passed her due day on Tuesday.

When the pains passed, Alex spun around and walked determinedly towards Colleen who appeared to brace herself for something. She always got a warped joy when they did that. Leaning past her employee, Alex began pressing buttons on the lift and found the emergency call button. “Let’s try this shall we.” Alex smirked at the hesitant Colleen. Unfortunately the emergency button did absolutely nothing at all.

“Umm,” Colleen scratched awkwardly at her neck, trying to disguise her growing panic. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped, but more so she knew as things continued to go wrong her boss’s mood would continue to sour, and didn’t want to remotely be in her vicinity when it did.

She tried not to look at the immense belly taking up most of her field of vision, though it was hard not to glance at it, especially when making eye contact with Alex was such a terrifying experience.

“We could shout for help?” Colleen suggested. “Maybe someone will hear us from whichever floor we’re on.”

“Eugh… if you want to shout then go ahead.” Alex dismissed, and continued back to her pacing around the small space.

They stayed in awkward silence, the only sounds were the clack-clack of Alex’s heels on the metal floor as she did loops around her section of the lift. She had one hand on her back, knuckles pushing into the base of her spine as it ached and spasmed. She’d managed to breathe her way through a few more of the annoying cramps but they were soon joined by a serious increase in pressure.

One particularly forceful twinge made her gasp and stop her pacing, one hand flying to the wall to lean against as the tightening got stronger and stronger and stronger. She couldn’t stop the low hum she made in her throat as the cramp continued its assault.

Colleen didn’t dare to open her mouth to shout, knowing she’d probably receive a dirty look and a complaint about a headache for her troubles. Instead she watched as her boss paced, again noting her restlessness and the hand bracing her curved, strained back as well as the hand constantly circling and resting on the broad shelf of her belly, as though to soothe the baby inside. This time, though, she noticed Alex’s walk, the way she waddled as though encumbered not only by the weight of her huge bump, but a pressure of sorts between her legs.

She more than suspected Braxton Hicks at this point, but her worst suspicions were confirmed when her boss finally leaned against the wall as though unable to support her own weight or trying to escape a deep pressure from her womb. She hummed, lowing as though she’d momentarily forgotten Colleen was there, absorbed with sensations from her pregnant body.

“Ma’am, are you okay?!” She stepped closer, hands spread like she didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re having a contraction, right. Oh god. Oh, this is so bad.”

Alex waved a hand away at the approaching colleague, keeping her at arm's length. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hoooo…. It’s nothing, it’s just a c-cramp that’s all… mnghhh…”

Her hand drifted lower and brushed along the underside of her stomach needing to try and find some way to ease the ache that was gnawing through her belly. She could feel her knees start to wobble and she breathed steadily, her weight supported by the wall, until it passed.

“See, it’s gone now. I’m fine.” Alex stated confidentially, her work facade firmly replaced. “Someone better get us out of here soon, I’m gonna bloody fire that security officer.” Alex muttered aloud.

She wanted to resume her pacing, her hips needed the constant movement, but her feet were far beyond protesting the high heels - they were downright screaming at her. Too exhausted to keep up every one of her professional fronts, Alex resigned herself to the comfort of bare feet and uncharacteristically kicked off her shoes.

Colleen nodded furiously at Alex’s dismissal of the pains. “Right! Of course, just a cramp. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

The young employee didn’t know much about pregnancy and birth, but she’d seen enough media about it to know that Alex closely resembled that of a woman in labor: the characteristically low, dropped belly, the consistent cramps, the restlessness. But…. that’d be impossible, right? There was no way she’d had the misfortune to be trapped in a lift with her boss of all people, and especially not an Alex in labor. That was not an encounter Colleen particularly wanted to be around.

She reassured herself. Even if those cramps coursing through Alex’s obviously overdue belly were labor pains, labor could take days, right? They couldn’t be stuck in here for more than thirty minutes, someone would absolutely notice Alex’s absence if not Colleen’s. She was too important to the company. Then, Colleen could get back to her emails and Alex could be sped off to the hospital or wherever she preferred to drop that kid.

These hopes wavered when Alex kicked off her shoes, pacing in her stockings. Colleen’s eyes widened. This was a ridiculously unprofessional move for Alex, she knew that for sure.

Without her black patent heels Alex shifted anxiously on flat swollen feet around the confined space, gradually feeling the temperature rise and the air thicken. There was no circulation in the small box, no air conditioning or fresh air coming through any gaps or vents. She could feel sweat start to dampen the back of her neck, her curled hair sticking to the tacky skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, arms stretching up and belly sticking out, picking up the ringlets from the back of her head and lifting them off her neck allowing some air to cool her overheated skin.

The Exec huffed an exhausted sigh. “How long do you reckon we’ve been in here?” Alex asked breathlessly to her subordinate.

She had given up on pacing and resorted to standing at the back of the lift and next to the metal railing that ran across the width of the back wall. Her hips swayed side to side, she breathed slow and deep, and occasionally would place a subtle hand on the railing for support.

The persistent braxton hicks were grating, chipping away at her resolve. It was probably just the confinement and heat, being stuck inside this metal box, but it felt like the intensity of the cramps were getting worse. She caught herself moaning under her breath when they struck, she tried to swallow the noise but it was never quick enough to remain totally silent. She wasn’t in the mood to field questions or concern from Colleen so she had to get those moans under control. Unfortunately for Alex, when the next contraction appeared it came on so suddenly she didn’t have time to prepare. The pain lanced across her stomach and Alex doubled over gasping, hands flying out and gripping the railing tight, an unusual groan rumbled from her throat.

Having watched her superior endure what were undeniably contractions at this point, Colleen’s concern had only multiplied. If she hadn’t been certain when Alex kicked off her heels (swollen, aching feet weren’t exactly uncommon in pregnancy, right?) or when sweat began to bead on her forehead in contrast to her usual inclement coolness (well, it is hot in here with no air conditioner, and she must be dying carrying around all that belly in such cramped quarters), there was not a doubt in Colleen’s mind when Alex clutched at the railing and moaned, low in her throat. It sounded so unlike Alex’s clipped, sharp tone. Almost animalistic, like something natural, a sudden instinct to vocalise as her belly contracted.

“Er—ma’am?” Colleen kept her distance, eyeing Alex’s heaving swell. “Are the, um, cramps getting stronger? They seem—well, they seem like they’re closer together too. Almost like—”

She didn’t dare say the word. Alex, she knew, didn’t like contradictions to what she said.

Instead she answered her boss’s previous question. “It’s probably been, oh I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?”

At the other woman’s panicked questions Alex managed to grit through her teeth a dismissive “… I’m fine!… mnghhh!” Alex tried to straighten up, to preserve appearances, and found she couldn’t - not while her muscles were still seizing. Instead another groan slipped from her mouth before she could clamp it shut.

“I-I think- they might be more than just cramps…” Alex panted as the worse seemed to fade away. “I think these m-might be… hoooo practice labour pains.” The Exec admitted hesitantly to her employee, removing one hand from the railing to circle around the heavy weight of her hanging bump.

She had a reputation to maintain, appearances to uphold, and Alex didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to anyone with an employee ID card. But as the waves continued she was forced to admit to her one companion she was indeed suffering from Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was fine, Colleen was only one person and after today she would be going on maternity leave and wouldn’t have to see anyone for months.

But this baby better quit practising for the main event soon. The false pains were aggressive and forceful, the weight of the baby’s head pressing so hard against her pelvis it felt like it was about to drop out any second. She hoped by the time they were rescued the baby and her body would have settled down. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“They better get us out of here soon…” Alex breathed heavily and quietly. Then realising her company added “I’ve got a meeting at 4pm with the CEO.”

Colleen tried to keep her face neutral, even as her boss doubled over groaning, her belly tight around her middle. Alex’s thighs were wide in her pencil skirt and Colleen could tell by their restless shifting and the slight bending of Alex’s knees that she was feeling the urge to spread them even more, not quite a squat yet but unable to stand with any poise anymore. Inwardly, though, her thoughts were racing. Braxton Hicks weren’t powerful like this, were they? After all, if they had forced a woman like Alex into a panting dishevelled mess, they must be pretty strong.

‘Should I tell her it sounds like she’s having contractions?’ Colleen deliberated. By the minute, she could tell Alex was progressing into her labour. Even as she struggled to maintain her image her body was getting her ready for birth, and Colleen knew that even her boss’s willpower wouldn’t halt such a natural, primal process. Then again, if Alex wanted to be in denial, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. They still had to wait in this lift until rescuers showed up—Colleen might as well not lose her job on top of it.

Instead, she nodded again. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, practise pains. I’m sure they’ll subside before long. They’re supposed to be quite irregular.”

“Exactly… hoooo… I just need to ride them out. It’s fine. Hoooo…” Alex’s usually assertive voice sounded somewhat unsure. She didn’t like it.

Both hands returning to the railing, facing the wall, Alex found her weight shifting from hip to hip. Her stance was wide - when did that happen?- and her blouse was damp with sweat. The boss was grateful there was not a mirror in this lift, dreading to think what she looked like.

The false pains didn’t seem to be fading anymore, staying at a constant ache in her womb with agonising peaks shooting across her back and down her thighs. She prided herself on her ability to handle any challenge, but for the first time in her life she doubted her willpower to make it through. If this was practice labour she did not want to experience the real thing. Perhaps she should organise a c-section when she gets out of here.

The pressure in her pelvis was getting almost unbearable, and combined with the false contractions that continued to strike, she felt herself losing control of her autonomy. Her body was shifting and moving of its own accord and ghastly noises were coming from her mouth. Her hips were on fire, a weight pressing and splitting them apart. She bent over gripping the railing, flat back and hips shifting backwards. Her legs tried to stand further apart but were stopped by the tight fitting pencil skirt around her thighs. The groan that left her mouth was unrecognisable, like she was possessed. As the pressure built and built, she could feel an urgency sinking lower and lower. Before she knew it the sounds from her mouth had deepened, her heavy breathing ending with an animalistic grunt.

Colleen continued to observe as Alex made noises that she couldn’t even reconcile with the aloof, in-control Alex that she knew. Wide-eyed, she couldn’t stop staring as the laboring woman paced the tiny space. Her grunts, the way she hissed through her teeth, with every sound she appeared closer and closer to giving birth. Her waddle was pronounced, almost bowlegged as though there was a deep weight between her legs, forcing them apart and pulling her closer to a grounded position. ‘Holy shit,’ Colleen thought. ‘She’s about to drop her baby!’ She didn’t know a thing about midwifery or delivering a child. Much less delivering for a mother who refused to even admit she was in labor.

Colleen tried to track Alex’s contractions in her mind as they ramped up in both frequency and intensity, but found it hard without a watch or a way to tell time. Eventually she gave up, reassuring herself that the next stage of labor wasn’t yet upon them, and that unless Alex broke her waters the baby would remain inside her womb until they could call some paramedics. Still, she didn’t like the fact that Alex appeared to be losing her calm, composed self. Drenched in sweat, grunting and groaning through contractions, her body was obviously telling her it was time, and Colleen wondered if she’d even let her help if it came down to her pushing her kid out into her pantyhose or exposing her heavily pregnant self to a random colleague.

Alex’s grip on the railing tightened as she felt her legs start to tremble. Pressing her forehead against the cool metal wall, she released a shaky exhale. She couldn’t think… hell she could barely stand. Every part of her entire being was consumed and overwhelmed by the pressure and pain between her legs.

In some buried corner of her mind an instinct was telling her to get lower to the ground, to remove her skirt and tights, to open up her legs and hips. Alex fought against the idea, she’d already lost enough dignity trapped in this lift with some entry-level employee, she was not going to make it any worse. But when the next contraction struck, any fighting spirit she had seemed to evaporate.

“Ohhhh god!!!! Mnnnghhhh!” She groaned, long and deep, rocking herself forwards and backwards and clinging on to the only thing keeping her on two legs. “The pressure….. hoooooo…. There’s so much -mngh!- pressure!!! Mnngghhhhh!!!”

Her body sank back deep into her hips, knees dipping slightly in her tight pencil skirt and belly hanging to the ground, her backside swaying in the centre of the confined space. She could feel her muscles squeezing with the force of contraction, trying to do something. The baby dropped even lower and smashed through her cervix. She felt so full, the mass in her pelvis so heavy, and her body screamed at her to bear down.

“No…..” Alex cried aloud against nature's call. “No… don’t…” but her instincts took over and suddenly the mother-to-be was pushing.

“Ma’am!” Colleen cried, startled by such a stark display of utter abandonment from her boss. Her waters hadn’t yet broken. She couldn’t be pushing, could she?! Yet Alex was squat-standing and clutching the railing, the backs of her thighs trembling with an immense groaning effort. It sounded more forceful than just enduring the pains in her belly. It sounded as though Alex was actively doing something, putting in a hard, straining effort. Working with her body without a thought in her mind except birthing her baby. Between her spread thighs, Colleen could see the underside of her stomach, hanging low, uterus clenching her belly into a hard, tight ball. The way she bent her knees periodically, grunting uncontrollably each time… it was as though she was trying to force something low and heavy through her bottom. Everything about Alex seemed heavy, gravid.

She groaned again, and Colleen gasped, “Ma��am, are you pushing?! You can’t push, not yet!”

Tentatively, she placed her palm against Alex’s swaying lower back, curving with the weight of her belly. She began to rub and massage the tense muscles, not knowing what else she could do to help. The way Alex seemed consumed with birthing, Colleen didn’t think she even noticed her.

“Unnhhh- I’m not pushing! I’m not- ohhhhhhh- I’m not in labour damn it!!!” Alex’s staccato breaths carried her continued denial of what was happening to her body.

She gasped, breath holding in her lungs, and her body pushed again without instruction. Alex ignored the faint relief that was gained with the push, the satisfaction of the productive contraction, the moving of the baby as it neared its exit. But then the urgency faded, the contraction eventually dimmed, and Alex could think again. She had control again.

It was then she noticed the hands that were rubbing her lower back. Startled Alex abruptly stood upright and glared at the presumptuous woman beside her. “What on earth are you doing?” Alex sniped, waving an arm and shooing her away.

The nervous employee recoiled back and Alex shifted around the space again, both hands holding the large belly about to burst out the sweat-dampened blouse. “I am not in labour.” Alex repeated firmly, forcing the confidence as if willing it to be true. “I am not having this baby, and I don’t need your help.”

Colleen barely managed not to gape. Here Alex was, belly gleaming with sweat under her soaked blouse, contractions ramming her incessantly, curly hair damp and mussed in the heat of the lift. Her cheeks were splotchy and red with exertion and her chest was heaving, from the release of the contraction or from the force of her obvious pushing, Colleen couldn’t tell. All she did know was that her boss was actively bearing down, that much was clear. She would have thought anyone else was joking, but she didn’t think Alex had a sense of humor. She had to be in denial, Colleen concluded. To squat down and push like an animal like that, then brush off help like it was nothing—if nothing else, Alex certainly had willpower.

Of course, modesty and willpower goes out the window when you have a baby coming out of you, and from the noises and pushing grunts Alex had been making, it couldn’t be long now.

“I-I’m sorry,” Colleen stuttered. “Those…. practice cramps seemed so intense. You seemed like—well, like you were—“

Under Alex’s exhausted glare, Colleen faltered and trailed off.

“Uhh, I told you… I am not in labour- hoooo- I am fine!” Alex swallowed a moan before it slipped out her mouth. “When are they gonna bloody get us -mnnnnh!- outta here!” Standing by the lift doors Alex stared at the vertical line where the two sides of the sliding panels met, glaring at it willing them to open.

The weight of the baby’s head had started to press against her opening, Alex’s legs forced even wider apart with the sensitivity. Buried under layers of denial and facade, the unconscious sense of urgency had been joined by desperation and it was making its way to the surface.

Her fingers pulled at her blouse, freeing the thin satin from her skirt and letting it drape down from the significant curve of her belly. The pressure between her legs was beginning to return, Alex could feel it coming. Her arms lifted, hands palming the lift doors, and before she knew it she was banging on the metal to try and get the attention of someone outside this tin can.

The banging didn’t last long before Alex was stopped by the sheer force of the next contraction. Her fingers slowly slid down the lift door as her body crumpled in half over her tight, rock-solid belly. Double over she braced herself against the lift door, thighs widening and knees buckling in a semi-squat, and her body bore down with everything it had. Whether she wanted to or not every muscle was tense and squeezing, pushing the large round shape down down and out of her body. A rumbled grunt echoed from her lungs as she strained and pushed and contracted, and the heaviness between her legs started to burn.

Colleen was hyperventilating, barely able to register her own thoughts over the din of Alex’s furious pushing, grunts and groans erupting from her throat without pause or respite. The baby had to be coming soon, with how forcefully and urgently Alex was bearing down. Colleen’s mind swirled. As Alex pushed she took up the mantle of alerting any outsider to their situation, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting over Alex’s uncontained moans.

“Help! Help us! We’re trapped in the lift and there’s a pregnant woman in here! She needs help, FAST!”

Alex’s voice rose to a deep bellow, trembling as though she was fighting an exhaustive battle against the baby inside her, bending her knees and opening her hips as wide as they could go in an attempt to drive it down and out. As her voice took on a higher, strained quality, Colleen began to suspect that something astonishing was taking place under her pencil skirt, that with all the pushing she’d been doing, the baby couldn’t possibly be very far from its only way out of her.

“Alex,” Colleen cried desperately. “What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!”

“You- mngh- don’t need to do anything cos mngh- I am not having this baby!” Alex grunted out, palms flat on the metal door, legs bent and wide beneath her skirt. “I am not in labour- hooo- I am not in labour…”

The exec panted the mantra over and over, fighting against her body’s urges to bear down. This baby was not being born in an elevator. She just had to breathe through the pains and she would be in the comfort and safety of a hospital soon, having a c-section damnit. That is what would be happening, not whatever the hell this woman was panicking about. Alex was in control, she always was in control, and the birth of her baby would be no different. She pushed herself off the doors and tried to move, to breathe through it, but the second she turned around her body doubled over and she gripped the railing to keep herself on two legs.

And then the burning got worse - the weight pressing lower, stretching apart her lips. The instinctual need to bear down was no longer a strong suggestion but a screaming demand. Alex was barely aware of her body’s actions anymore, she just wanted it all to stop. All she could do was gasp for air in between the bursts while her body forced the baby lower and lower - the head spreading her most intimate part around its giant surface. I will not have my baby here I will not have my baby here she chanted with every uncontrollable push.

Her thighs pulled the skirt as wide as it would go trying to make room, her whole body weight thrown forward as she leant over gripping the railing, arms locked and knees bent. But her hips weren’t wide enough, her body was too restricted by clothes, yet Alex was frozen to the spot as she grunted and roared with every wave. Soon the growling noise from deep in her throat turned into a pained whimper when the baby’s head pushed right through and fully crowned into her thong and stockings.

Colleen watched in horror as fluid suddenly spurted from between Alex’s thighs, soaking the floor of the elevator, filling the contained space with a musky, almost fertile scent. Alex shivered, lifting onto her toes as she gripped the railing. She looked as though her entire body was being pulled downward with the force of her descending baby. Her stockings were drenched—Colleen could scarcely believe the amount of fluid Alex’s body had let out, and it was still dripping and leaking from inside her skirt. She felt nauseous looking at the spreading puddle beneath Alex’s feet, and thought to herself, no doubt about it, there’s her waters. The release didn’t diminish Alex’s groaning efforts, though; if anything, the sudden breaking seemed to only renew her utter need to birth, nothing impeding or delaying its progress any more.

Except, of course—

Colleen gasped. “Ma’am—Alex—your skirt!”

Alex’s thighs trembled and quivered, spread so far that Colleen could see the hem of her skirt cutting into the flesh of her legs. She was trying to instinctively widen them, Colleen realized. She needed more space, even with them spread so far already, and Colleen could barely imagine the sheer size of the baby coming out of her boss. Then she didn’t have to imagine. As she watched, Alex’s skirt began to tent out slightly, tight against her backside as she doubled over, back flat. Whenever Alex grunted loudly, bending her legs and clutching the railing, the bulge in her skirt grew. That’s the head, Colleen thought, her own head spinning. My god, it’s enormous. It was a miracle they hadn’t been found yet from the noises Alex was making, letting loose guttural groans and roars that echoed in the enclosed space. Her entire face was twisted with effort, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. All her strength was going into giving birth to her massive baby, but still, it didn’t seem to be enough, not with her skirt keeping her legs too narrow, her hips too closed. Alex’s skirt lifted and tented more and more, until it seemed to reach a peak. Alex’s voice slipped into a whimper and Colleen blinked, never having thought she’d hear Alex make such a vulnerable, sensitive sound. Then, Alex dropped into another hard push. The tent in the fabric stayed put.

“Your skirt,” Colleen said again, and hurriedly bent to pinch Alex’s skirt up. “Your skirt’s—“

From this angle she could finally see the crown, and drew in a breath. Her boss’s most intimate region was stretched and distended beyond recognition, lips taut around the huge head making its way out of her from behind her thong. The narrow strip of black fabric just contained the head’s huge circumference, cupping it tightly, barely allowing any more space for it to progress. Without room, Alex was stuck with a full crown between her legs, unable to push it out into her stockings.

With her boss barely able to speak anymore, Colleen made an executive decision. “I’m sorry, but we have to get this skirt off. Your baby’s coming, Alex. I can see the head! It’s coming out of you, and you need to let it, okay?! Come on, please listen to me.”

“No….unghhhh!” Alex mewled “I’m not having this baby… not here- ohhhhhhhh!”

The Exec had completely lost all semblance of control; doubled over, hanging onto the railing, legs wide and dipped as much as they could go. Alex couldn’t move. She hissed through her teeth, panting as her labia stretched thin, the baby sitting between her folds. But the baby couldn’t come now! It just can’t. She was at work for fucks sake! And worse, she was trapped in the lift. Real labour takes hours, days, there was no way she was pushing a baby out right now…

Her body argued against her thoughts as everything tightened and contracted once more. Gasping for air Alex tried to fight the muscles bearing down against the ridiculously large mass in her vagina, but panting through the pain didn’t do anything to stop the automatic pushing. Primal and animalistic noises left her mouth as her body pushed, her deep lowing reverberated off the walls.

Grunting at the end of each push, Alex tensed and strained, the instinct desperate to expel the child from her womb. But it wasn’t moving, slipping only the tiniest millimetre into her underwear. Heart racing Alex felt panicked - fighting hard against this birth and yet simultaneously trapped as the baby was stuck, held in by her tight stockings.

“Oh god!!!! Get it out- get it OUT!!!” She cried.

It was all too much; the burning, the fullness, the weight, the pressure. Alex collapsed under it all. She let go of the railing, legs shaking, and she clawed at the hem of her skirt trying to pull it higher, to give her hips more room. It was so tight, and her legs were so wide, her nails scraped across the surface of her stocking covered thighs as she gripped and pulled the black fabric of her skirt up towards her hips. But another wave crested and with it she was consumed by the need to bear down once more. Abandoning her skirt she held fast to the metal railing, her knees buckling trying to pull her down into a squat, but the pencil skirt creaked as the fabric stretched to its limits and she could only dip down slightly and push the baby against the strained clothing.

“I-it’s stuck!” Colleen stuttered. “The head is—” she raised her voice, tried to get through to Alex, but could barely even hear her own words over the almost-inhuman noises escaping from Alex’s throat as she fought desperately against the elastic of her thong, caught between the need to birth and the unyielding fabric of her stockings and the black fabric containing the massive head tightly in her vagina, shoving forward with powerful muscles as it wedged back inside her with just as much force.

She couldn’t open her legs any wider, Colleen saw. They shook violently as she threw back her head and let loose another deafening moan. From Alex’s furious face it was obvious that Colleen didn’t even register as a presence anymore, that the only thing in the world that Alex was thinking about in this moment was the head lodged between her tensed, opened lips.

Only when Alex started screaming that she needed it OUT, right now, was Colleen galvanised into action. She lowered from her crouch until she was kneeling between Alex’s legs. For a brief second, Colleen was in awe of the sight before her; the woman she’d known as a fearsome presence, a powerful executive, had been reduced to a groaning, sobbing mess, birthing into her skirt. Yet, this was her transformation into motherhood, and there was something powerful in that too.

“Alex,” Colleen said. “Alex, you have to stop pushing. I need to get your skirt down.”

She doubted Alex even heard her, but nonetheless she grappled with the clasp of Alex’s pencil skirt. The waistband was held taut by Alex’s widened legs as she tried to allow the baby to pass through, and Colleen was unable to undo the clasp.

“Shi-it,” she licked her teeth and then grabbed both ends of the waistband, pulling hard. The clasp tore off, and immediately the skirt loosened and sagged around Alex’s hips.

“Oohhhhhh… get-it-off-GET-IT-OFF!!” Alex yelled, feeling the tightness of the skirt loosen around her middle.

She had to push, she had to get this baby out now - location and present company be damned - the torturous stretching and excruciating pain had to stop. And Alex knew there was only way in which it would.

Her employee, whateverhernameis, was pulling the skirt over her widened hips and Alex squirmed and shifted with the fullness and desperation to bear down. When the skirt hit the floor Alex immediately stepped out of it and dropped down fully into a deep squat, roaring with the effort of another push. The woman was behind her, she thinks, but she barely notices… Alex’s arms stretch upwards, hands still gripping the railing, her body hanging off the support and almost swinging in her squat.

Her underwear and stockings were still covering her lower body but the freedom of being able to fully open her legs meant the baby could move further out. Alex pulled in a deep breath and bore down with everything she had. Silent in her efforts as all her focus went inward.

Part of her wanted to feel, to know how much of the baby was born and how much there was left to go, but she daren’t release her vice-like grip for fear of collapsing and losing her pushing position. She gasped, her throat scratched and raw, and clamped her teeth together and growled another push. The baby was coming, she could feel it slipping out and this time it wasn’t retreating. Harder and harder she leant into the push and finally the head popped out into her stockings. Alex sobbed with relief and collapsed back into her member of staff.

Colleen cried out in surprise as Alex fell back into her arms, leaning her entire body weight into them as though she had used up all of her strength, drained from pushing the huge head through her overstressed opening, and beneath her more fluid flooded the floor of the lift from the sudden release. Colleen gingerly caught her by the armpits, and Alex’s knees jackknifed apart, jutting upward as she lowered her bottom and hips beneath her, the head dangling between the apex of her thighs. She moaned, breathless, closing her eyes. Tear trails marked their way down her cheeks. Damp and shivering, with a baby hanging out of her, Alex was totally vulnerable to Colleen, hardly seeming to even notice her exposure or dependence on her.

Colleen couldn’t help but smile down at her superior as she swayed and panted in her arms. An hour ago, Colleen might have received a harsh glance for even brushing her fingers as she handed her a coffee. Now, she was holding her up while she prepared to push her baby into the world.

“Go on,” Colleen urged. “Feel the head. It’s out now. You’re almost there.”

“What? Hoooo… it-it’s out… the head?” Alex could barely catch her breath to form words, her full breasts heaving up and down on her belly as she gasped for air.

Somehow the mother-to-be was still upright in her squat but no longer holding the rail, somewhere in her mind she knew the other woman was quite literally holding her up to birth but Alex couldn’t bring herself to pay it any mind. Her only focus was her child emerging between her legs. With a trembling hand she placed a hand downwards and felt, through the sheer stockings, her baby’s head.

“Oh my god… hoooo… I’m having the baby…”

Through all the denial Alex’s brain struggled to compute what was happening. She had fought against it so fiercely, so vehemently, and yet very clearly beneath her fingertips was a baby’s head.

“My-my tights… I’m still wearing my tights?! Oh no… the baby…the tights are over his head… have to get them off!” Alex shifted awkwardly, unsteady in her movements but seemingly desperate to free her emerging child from the confines of her stockings.

“Hoooo…. Ohhhh no….” Alex suddenly whimpered. “Ohhhhhhh I n-need to p-push again…. No… need-tights-off…Don’t push… mnnghhhh…”

“Hold on,” Colleen muttered, working out the logistics of removing Alex’s stockings with her squatting and crowning a baby into them. She heard Alex’s hushed voice, articulating her primal urge to bear down once again.

“Just a moment,” Colleen said, crouching lower while supporting Alex’s labouring body, wrapping her thumbs around Alex’s waistline.

She was close enough to smell the subtle aroma of Alex’s deodorant and the natural odors of birth on her, and see the sweat beaded on her neck. She saw every one of Alex’s muscles tense, her tendons standing clear. Alex moaned, already in the forceful grips of another contraction. Her moan tightened and deepened, and Colleen had listened through enough of her contractions to know that she’d begun to push against her will.

“Alex! No pushing, just hold on a few more seconds,” Colleen said, frantically tugging the stockings down her waist and glutes. Unfortunately, Alex didn’t seem to have any more seconds in her.

“Ohhhh GOD,” she bellowed. “Oh, I’m PUSHINGGGG!” She bore down relentlessly, and Colleen saw the head give a surge against the tight fabric.

Colleen cursed again. Between the baby being squeezed into the stretching fabric and Alex’s parted thighs and widespread knees, there was no way Colleen could even slide the stockings past her crotch. Which meant she couldn’t access Alex’s underwear either. The tent grew and shoved down toward the floor impossibly as Alex sank into her push.

Hopefully, she won’t be too mad about this, Colleen thought, then she seized fistfuls of fabric and tore, ripping a seam large enough for the head. Then she looped her finger around the thong and quickly pulled it to the side.

‘Okay! Okay, I think it’s free!” Colleen announced.

“Ohhhh fuck!!!! It’s coming outtt!!!” Alex cried, gasping a desperate breath in between her body’s involuntary pushing and she felt the burning ring return.

A deep and gravelled roar rattled her throat as the shoulders stretched her sore and sensitive lips. Her baby… it was coming out… in the elevator at work! She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Gripping her knees she fully leant into the contraction, using every bit of it as her hips sank towards the floor and her muscles pushed.

Suddenly she yelped and jolted in Colleen’s arms as one shoulder slipped free and Alex quickly and instinctively let go of her knees to put both hands between her spread thighs. The baby’s head and neck were in her uncertain hands and she grunted, low and long, desperately calling on every ounce of strength she had left to get the infant out.

With a roar-turned-wail Alex cried out as the baby slipped from her body and shot into her waiting hands.

Up. She had to bring him up, had to hold him. In a fraction of a heartbeat Alex had pulled the baby from between her legs and held the slippery newborn against her chest.

“Y-you’re h-here… oh baby… you’re here…” Alex sobbed, wiping the blood and fluids from his face. It was scrunched and red, eyes not yet open, his body curled up tight. Then his fists pushed against her breast, legs kicking and discovering new sensations, and the little bundle let out a high-pitch cry as he opened his eyes.

Colleen let Alex slip from her arms to the elevator floor, cupping her baby gently in her arms and murmuring softly. She rocked slightly, and even in the enclosed space it seemed to Colleen as though Alex was in her own world, far away from anyone or anything else. She backed away, allowing Alex her moment to meet the child she’d worked so hard to carry and birth. She didn’t think she’d be able to see Alex as she had before, the untouchable executive. Instead, she’d witnessed Alex’s most intimate, vulnerable moment, even helped her through it. She smiled to herself and Alex cooed, her face close to the baby at her breast.

The quiet peace of the lift was disrupted by a banging on the metal ceiling.

“Hey—! Is someone in here? And, is that a baby crying?!”

Colleen met eyes with Alex, and laughed weakly. “I don’t suppose this qualifies for a promotion, does it?”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention.

Word Count - 1.5k ish??

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the wild gif, but I saw it and couldn't not use it. this fic is based on this request!! thank you for this message my love - it sparked so many thoughts. I made chibs a little sweeter than I meant to, oops.

Masterlist. Inbox.

The wind whips through your hair as you speed down the road, sunlight beaming down and warming you both.

You have your helmet tightly strapped on your head, a gift from the man currently in front of you on the bike. He'd grumbled as he'd given it to you, mumbling something about someone has to keep you fuckin' safe and last thing we need is an injury to your pretty face.

It's a complicated relationship you have, to say the least. You're not together. No, Chibs is still technically married to Fiona, and he's not exactly the boyfriend type. You're not sure what you want, reluctant to commit to dating a member of the club and all of the danger that comes along with it.

So, you dance the line. The two of you flirt, laughing and touching. You get close, and then you pull away. You wonder if one day, he'll just crack. He knows that if he starts something, he'll have to finish it. He's not a man who works in halves.

Chibs occasionally takes a hand off the handlebars to squeeze your thigh, a silent communication. He's asking are you okay? And you're reaching forward to squeeze his in reply, answering yeah, I am.

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, safe and secure. You can feel the taut muscles of his back and shoulders through the leather jacket that you're pressed against. You know how big he is - tall and broad and unwavering in the face of danger. He's ruthless, and it turns you on. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

The next time he reaches back to squeeze your thigh, you graze your fingernails along the muscle of his before squeezing back much further up. You feel the tension instantly, his back tightening in front of you. You smirk and hold on again, acting like nothing happened.

He's curious, now. Testing the waters. He squeezes your leg again, firmly, and you squeeze back so high that your fingertips graze his bulge. His breath hitches, and you feel it. You grin.

He pinches your thigh this time, sharply. A warning.

One that you ignore. You dance your fingertips higher, lightly stroking across the tent in his jeans, nails scraping the denim. He hums, low and dangerous, vibrations rumbling through the both of you.

You return your hands to his torso, clinging on tightly as you curve around the bends, scenery flying by. You're back at the clubhouse before you know it, the journey as quick as the blink of an eye.

You act like nothing has happened as you get off the bike. You know the two of you have just crossed a line, moving from friendship to something more. You don't want to address it. So, you hang your helmet onto the handlebars and go to walk away, in desperate need of a drink.

A strong hand grabs your wrist, spinning you back around. You collide with a hard chest, a soft oof leaving you. Chibs looks you up and down slowly, gaze raking across your body and stopping at your mouth. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling you in closer, hands snaking around your back.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

You take a deep breath and exhale it in a shudder.

"... Inside?"

"Nuh uh," he tuts, tracing patterns across your skin absentmindedly. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and just walk away."

You decide to play clueless, hoping it'll get you off easier.

"A stunt like what?"

He pulls you in closer again, so your bodies are pressed against each other. No space between you.

"Oh, sweetheart. This innocent act might work on other people, but it doesn't work on me. I see right through ya."

You find a shred of confidence from somewhere, determined to make him sweat a little. You enjoy getting under his skin.

"And what do you see, Filip? Hmm?"

He smirks, mischievous and knowing.

"I see a strong, independent woman, who wants - no, sorry - needs, someone to put her in her place."

You raise your eyebrows at him, so he keeps going.

"You want to be broken apart and put back together again. You enjoy pushing my buttons, trying to get a rise from me, don't you? You think it's fun. But you've got no fuckin' idea about the things I want to do to you, honey. I'm not sure you want to know."

You're panting, now, your chest heaving with anticipation.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Tell me what you want to do to me. Please."

"Please? You wanna be polite now?"

You practically pout at him, big doe eyes begging him to just give in. But Filip Telford is nothing if not stubborn. He is, in fact, the most adamant person you've ever met.

"Chibs."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Don't be mean."

"Mean? This ain't mean, baby. You're just used to everyone being sweet to you because you're pretty."

You smile, now. That's a pleasant surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling.

"I think you know that by now."

"It's just nice to hear you say it."

He leans forward, pressing his mouth to your ear.

"You know what? Yeah. Let's go inside."

Chibs grabs your hand and leads you with him, pulling you at a quick pace across the yard. When you reach the door, he pulls it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Ever the gentleman.

The clubhouse is empty, which makes a change. The minute you’re inside, you feel two hands on your hips, pushing your back into the bar.

“You really wanna know?”

His accent has got thicker, tone low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please. Tell me.”

“You’ll never look at me the same,” he begins, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “When you hear what I want to do to you.. the things I’ve thought about… you won’t be able to look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face.

“I think you underestimate me a little, Chibs. Wait until you hear the things I’ve thought about in bed at night, when I can’t sleep.”

He presses a kiss into your neck, nipping at it gently. You groan at the contact, tilting your head to give him better access. One of his hands trails down your side, popping the button on your jeans with ease.

“Gonna take the edge off,” he murmurs, “and then fuck you the way you deserve when I get you home. Alright?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps to keep you upright. You rest your head against his chest, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“Chibs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiles at you, all genuine and soft for a moment.

“Yeah, babe. I’ll kiss you. Been waiting for you to ask for a long time.”

He adds the last part quietly, as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, more tender than you were expecting. You hum in contentment, opening up to let him slip his tongue in. He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth all filthy and debauched.

One of his hands slips into the front of your jeans, tracing you over your underwear. You both groan at the action, lips still connected.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This all for me, hmm?”

You nod almost instantly, resting your head back on his chest. Chibs slips his hand under your waistband, gathering your slick before sliding a finger inside with ease.

“Knew you’d feel like this. Wet and warm and tight and fuckin’ perfect.”

You whine, winding your hips down to chase any friction he’ll give you.

“You’re filthy, darlin’. Letting me finger you in the clubhouse, huh? What if someone walks in, hmm? What if someone sees you like this?”

“Don’t care,” you choke out. “More, please.”

He chuckles darkly, slipping another finger in while rubbing at your clit in circles with his thumb. Your knees buckle, shaking as you grab onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got ya,” he’s murmuring into your ear, crooking his fingers. “I’ve always got ya.”

He speeds up his movements, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips you with his teeth occasionally, making you whine all high pitched and breathy. You know you’re gonna smell like cigarettes and gasoline for the foreseeable future.

“You’re close, aren’t ya? Can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

Chibs snakes his unoccupied hand around your back, holding you up as your legs shake. You fall over the edge, gasping into his chest as he mutters sweet nothings.

“There we go, atta girl. Good fuckin’ girl, hmm?”

You’re nodding, collapsing forwards against him. He pulls his hand from your jeans and instantly puts his fingers in his mouth, making your knees even weaker.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once again.

He obliges, softly connecting your lips. It’s gentle and careful and much more loving than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Now, darlin’. I’m gonna stick you back on that bike, take you home, and fuck you like you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay,” you grin at him, laughing when he chuckles.

You’d have to be insane to deny an offer like that.

@just-a-girl-who-wrytes

[always-just-red]

I wanted a slightly suggestive fluff with the twins if that's alright👁️👄👁️

A scenario in which they're finally done with Sylus's tasks for the day and get to spend some time with MC

CRYINGGG anon I low-key did deviate from the brief but I had this idea and I just ended up running with it. I hope you enjoy, regardless! I went into this ambivalent towards Luke and Kieran but something just possessed me honestly. Also dragged Sylus into it because there's no way in hell I wasn't subjecting him to this dynamic!! 😇 (I made MC here separate from canon MC for plot reasons, but if you want a fic with the twins and canon MC, just let me know!)

Onychinus' Finest

Luke and Kieran x Reader

Summary: All in a day's work for Sylus's loyal and committed worker bees crows

Genre: fluff & shenanigans

Warnings/Additional tags: MDNI (not smut but it's a lil spicy and I'd rather play it safe tbh), f!reader, nonMC!reader, platonic Sylus x reader, humour, swearing, suggestion, kisses, the twins are just obsessed with your legs honestly and who could blame them

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your call connects almost instantly.

“What?” Sylus hisses from the other end, and you get the impression he’s disappointed.

“Oof,” you groan, smiling, “what’s the matter, boss? Waiting on a call from a certain Deepspace Hunter?”

There’s silence in your ear, but not far from you, Kieran snickers. Your smile broadens. “You have three seconds,” Sylus seethes, with the precarity of a pot that could boil over at any moment, “to tell me what I want to hear.”

Three seconds is a bit of a push. You’re sat on a desk and Kieran is tapping away at the computer beside you, the light of the screen catching the sharp features of his mask; he looks like something from a horror story. You nudge his knee with your foot. He glances at you.

Wrap it up, you signal with a twirl of your forefinger.

His mask tilts downwards, almost imperceptibly, and you know he’s glaring at you from behind it. He flashes his middle finger back and you chuckle, watching him return to his work. “Files should be on their way shortly,” you explain to Sylus, because you know when to stop pushing your luck. “Ever’s upped the security on these damn computers. The device that guy sold you didn’t do shit.”

It’s also now pieces of a device, shattered against the floor from when Kieran had thrown it down and stepped on it in frustration. You’re not gonna mention that.

Sylus sighs impatiently, but there’s a hint of regret. “I knew there was something off about that deal. Do you think he tipped them off?”

You glance around the room and it’s littered with bodies. Not dead! Just… unconscious. At least, most of them, you think. “Yeah…” you muse. It was a lot more security than there should have been in a high-rise office in the middle of the night. “You might be onto something there, boss.”

Another sigh from Sylus. You watch Luke as he finishes looting— wait, no— checking the last of the security guards for anything helpful. He’s found a phone and he’s staring down at it, head tilted, reminding you of Mephisto. You briefly wonder what came first: the crow masks or the crow-like behaviour. Maybe you’ll ask Sylus one day.

Luke lifts the phone, holding it at arm’s length, and you realise he’s taking a selfie. He pivots until you and Kieran are in the background, and you lean into the frame, making a peace sign with your free hand. The moment is captured. Luke tosses the phone over his shoulder and it hits the floor with a crack.

“Are you all alright?” Sylus checks, and you know his eyes are burning with frustration, even though you can’t see them. He wears a mask too— most of the time— it’s just a little more figurative than yours or the twins’. You’re an expert at reading past them by now.

“Yeah,” you say, “we signed up for this, remember? You’ve got the best of the best, right here.” You glance between Luke and Kieran. “Well, the best of the best and her sidekicks.”

“Hey!” Kieran interjects. “You wanna have a go on this computer?”

“No,” you lilt back sweetly. What’s he gonna do— make you? Sure enough, he goes back to tapping away, his head sagging slightly, and you can tell he’s pouting.

Luke has wandered closer to the pair of you. “How much longer?” he whines, throwing himself into a wheely chair, setting it on a slow collision course with Kieran’s. You stop it with your leg.

“Shut up,” Kieran snaps. “At least I’m doing something.”

“I can do something,” Luke retorts. He captures your ankle, pulling it away from the leg of his chair, and rests a hand on your shin.

“Something isn’t in the mood right now.” You lift your foot from his grasp, inching it up his lower abdomen, and he groans as you plant it against his chest. “So unprofessional,” you tut.

You’d stifled your phone against your chest, but you can hear a deep voice leaking out of it. “Say that again, boss?” you request, bringing it back to your ear.

“How long is this going to take?” Sylus repeats.

“Not long. You know what they say, though…” You meet the eyes of Luke’s mask. Your tone drops: “All good things to those who wait.”

Luke’s chair squeaks, rolling back as you push him away with a soft kick.

“Fine,” Sylus murmurs, “Mephisto is with me. Stay on the line, and send the files through when you can. I’ll check them before you leave. If they knew we were coming, there’s a chance that—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” you interrupt. You get Kieran’s attention again, then gesture between the computer and the phone. The beak of his mask dips as he nods.

Luke has used your lapse of focus to draw himself close to you again. He takes your ankle once more and guides it to rest in his lap, one hand tight— holding you in place— and the other deftly undoing the buckles on your boot. After a few clinks, he pulls it from your foot, the leather dragging down over your skin and leaving it cold. He throws the boot at his twin’s leg.

Kieran huffs as it tumbles to the floor. He doesn’t look away from the computer, but you know he wants to. Now that’s professional.

Decidedly committed to another priority, Luke draws shapes on your lower leg, his finger grazing over your shin and ankle. He’s staring down, fixated, and maybe they aren’t shapes— maybe they’re letters. Every stroke of his finger is deliberate. You could ask what he’s writing, but you really don’t care so long as it’s more than a word or two.

If it is, he doesn’t have the patience for it. His fingers walk higher, stopping only as they reach your knee. The fabric of your dress is draped over your leg and he pushes it aside, letting it slink closer to the floor. He looks up at you, head angled like a question.

“Any progress?” Sylus asks.

You’re holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder, both hands splayed on the desk beside you so you can lean slightly back. “Getting there,” you say, lips curving. You’re not looking at the computer.

You could swear you hear Luke laugh, but it’s ever so faint. He rests his whole hand on you, warming your lower leg with broader strokes, and whatever he wrote has been erased. Your breath catches as his touch moves above your knee, and it’s a tiny sound; no-one would notice.

Kieran’s mask turns towards you. “Oh, come on,” he sighs. “No fair.”

It’s an intimate art: seeing behind a mask. You have to notice everything.

“So hurry up,” Luke answers, his voice heavier than the last time he spoke. His chest rises and falls with every breath, just a little slower, a little deeper.

Kieran rolls his eyes—you guess, from the listless way his attention goes back to the screen— and you detect a huff. “Not fair,” he says to himself. He repeats it as he punches keys with his fingers: “Not fair. Not fair.”

Luke shakes his head gently: a fond exasperation rather than anything serious. He rolls his chair closer until he’s framed by your legs, then lifts your ankle to rest on his shoulder. His fingers curl, the pads of them brushing over the top of your foot idly, but it tickles, so you try to pull away. He grasps your ankle again. “Nuh-uh, kitten,” he teases.

It’s one of your favourite in-jokes; you laugh. Sylus can still hear you, and you’re glad he doesn’t know it’s at his expense. “Something funny?” he asks. Maybe he does know.

“Yeah,” you say. He could string you upside-down with his Evol and you’d still never tell him what.

Luke is chuckling to himself, and the sound changes as he lifts his mask just enough to free the lower half of his face. It’s not the first time, but it sobers you instantly. He turns to press his lips to your ankle, leans in— kisses further up. Leans in again— his mouth moves higher.

“Why so wriggly?” he speaks into your knee. “Stop.”

“You stop,” you counter, reaching forward to grab one of the horns peeking out of his hood. You use it to pull him away. Make him look at you. “Your little book on conquest doesn’t work on me.”

His lips widen into a smirk.  

“What book?” Sylus’s voice echoes.

You smirk as well. “Ask your pet hunter.”

You’re interrupted by a thud and your head spins. Kieran is standing up, slapping the top of the computer in frustration. “C’mon, work!” he urges. “So freakin’ slow.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” You shoo him away from the computer like you would a too-friendly pigeon from your lunch.

He flaps back in answer, his hand engaging yours in a brief slap-fight before he backs down. He slumps into his chair, defeated. “It’s almost there,” he groans, folding his arms. “Hey, Luke? Wanna swap?”

“No.”

“Do it,” you prompt.

Luke’s head rolls begrudgingly. “Yes ma’am. Jeez.” He plants a warm kiss on your leg again before clambering out from underneath it, pulling his mask back down over his face.

Another moment later and Kieran is in front of you instead. “You ok?” you wonder out loud.

“Bored.” He rests his head sideways on your thigh. His fingers find your bare lower leg and he runs them up, down, up, down, but it’s soft and purposeless. Soon, his head lifts— thin, red eyes staring up at you. The gaze doesn’t waver as he leans back in his chair and starts to unfasten your other boot.

“She’s gonna get cold,” Luke quips from the computer.

“Nah. She’s not.”

Your skin prickles as Kieran pulls away your boot, like a reflection of his brother, but tortuously more slow. He lets the cool air of the room set in. “Huh,” he corrects himself. “Maybe she is.”

You get the sense you’re being punished; both of them are petty. You’re pettier, though. “Sylus?” you speak into the phone.

“Mmm?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time that Kieran— ah!”

In a heartbeat Kieran has lifted his mask— not enough, but enough— and planted a kiss above your knee. His hand is around your leg, pushing it further from the other, and you can’t help but gasp again.

“What are you…” Sylus starts to ask, but then he changes his mind. “No. I don’t want to know.”

“You sure, boss?” you chuckle breathlessly. “It might surprise you.”

“Nothing would surprise me at this point, sweetie. Those files had better be on their way.”

You tear your gaze away from Kieran to glance over at Luke. He’s sat, propped on an elbow, his chin in his palm, and he’s definitely not looking at the computer. He sits up straight under your scrutiny. Turns to the screen. After a few more drums of the keyboard, he gives you a thumbs up.

“Got it,” Sylus chimes in, no doubt perusing the files already. “Nothing seems amiss. Nice work.”

“Thanks, boss,” you grin. “I’ve been working very, very hard.”

The phone is snatched from your hand. “She has, sir!” Kieran speaks into it. He stands, putting it on speaker before setting it down beside you. “I think she deserves the night off.”

There’s a crash as he shoves the computer from the desk, and Luke leans back, swinging his feet up onto the now empty space. He lifts his mask marginally to put two fingers to his lips, whistling in celebration. There’s a slow clap for good measure, too.

Kieran bows to him with a flourish. Then to you; you bow your head back.

“I’m hanging up,” Sylus states plainly.

“Ok,” you chirp, distracted. “I hope she calls you soon, boss!”  

“I don’t… I’m not…” your leader stutters. He reconsiders. “Thank you. Don’t think, however, that I’m—”

He doesn’t get to finish the warning, threat, or whatever else it was. Luke’s finger stands proudly on the phone, still connected to the ‘end call’ button. “What?” he dismisses as you and Kieran look at him. “I slipped! If boss asks, you saw me slip.”

“I did see it,” Kieran nods.

“I saw it too,” you add solemnly.  

There’s silence for a single moment, and there’s never silence with you three around. It lasts as long as it usually does.

You all burst into laughter.

[catscidr]

Hiii I just found your acc and really like your stuff! Can I pls request lazy morning sex with Jing Yuan (and any character you think might fit this prompt) I just looked and there is not one fic like this of this man when he's like... right there. He's like so perfect for this scenario. Thank you sm and have a great day/night! <3

i just finished writing this its 3am i think i blacked out. everybody give it up for my man jing yuan i need himSO BAAAAD AAHHH i hope u like this nonnie ♡♡ cw: nsfw, mdni. semi-clothed sx, soft dom jy, clt stimulation, size kink if you squint, praise, pet names, slight overstimulation, cuddling n fucking face-to-face, riding, creampie. /not proofread ill do that in the morning. dies/ includes: fem reader, jing yuan, fu xuan mentionned wc: 3,2k

You loved and hated waking up next to Jing Yuan in the morning. On one hand, the rhythm of his beating heart lulls you to sleep, and he makes for a wonderful personal heater; but on the other... he’s a little too comfortable. So much so that every time you sleep with him, you, without fail, end up being late for work. That, or you barely make it in time. At times you would point your finger at him and accuse him of being a wholesome, sleepy version of an incubus, and he would laugh in that smooth, baritone voice of his. 

Regardless. 

This morning was one of those mornings, of course. Jing Yuan came back home for the first time in two weeks the night before- being the general of the Luofu means that he would occasionally have to leave for an unknown amount of time to take care of business. Every time he had to leave, you’d linger around him a little longer than usual, wrap your arms around him tighter than you normally would and let your lips linger on his cheek long enough for the sun to rise completely. 

He’d come back so late last night that you were already sleeping in your shared bed, legs haphazardly thrown over the bed sheets in a poor attempt to regulate your body temperature. The button-up shirt you wore made his heart lunge in his throat in the best way, but the last thing he wanted was to wake you. So, he’d carefully remove his armored uniform, take his shirt off and slip into the bed with you with nothing but his briefs on, and pull you into his chest. You had unconsciously nuzzled closer to him, your body craving the warmth of his body you had missed oh so dearly. 

Which explained the situation you were now in. The dilemma you found yourself stuck in. Jing Yuan was back; you had your face mere millimeters away from his plush chest, his arms held you tight against him, and his soft snores almost convinced you to fall back asleep. Keyword; almost. 

As much as you loved him you knew that he’d be here once you came back from work, so with as much resolve as you could muster, you try wriggling your way out of his grip. With him being as big as he was, though, it didn’t surprise you when he tightened his hold on you, treating you as if you were his plushie threatening to fall off his bed and he was a child.

You let out a quiet oof from his strong grip and reevaluate your options. There weren’t many options, but at least you had choices; either you wake him up, convince him to let you go and then get to work early enough that you don’t risk getting written up again, or you let him hold you and... arrive at work late. Again. Which was the last thing you wanted, given the fact that your boss had specifically told you that she couldn’t allow you to miss another meeting. 

Step one was to summon the ability to be even more stubborn than your lover. Step two is to carefully wriggle your arms up, high enough that you can move your hands and you can use them to your advantage against the beast. It took you some time, given the fact that they were stuck between his and your body, but you succeeded, nonetheless. And you only got one displeased grunt from the sleeping general in response. 

As you’re about to proceed with step three, Jing Yuan cracks an eye open and buries his head into the crook of your neck while curling into you, effectively trapping you between his plush muscles and the duvet. 

Could have gone better. 

“Jing Yuan,” you huff, your voice sounding more like a whine than anything. The general doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he fell asleep again, but his morning voice graces your ears before you have the time to curse him out. “Mhm, I’m up,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck in a false apology. 

You wriggle in response, grunting from the sheer effort. One of the downsides that came with cuddling with Jing Yuan was the way he could keep you right there with him as long as he wanted, curse his strength. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to budge, you decide that two can play that game. You stare into his silky mop of silver hair, pondering whether you should negotiate your freedom or if you should play dirty- but where's the fun in trying to talk your way out of this predicament? You bring a hand up to gently brush his bangs away from his face. He makes a soft noise of contentment at the feeling of your fingers delicately brushing against his face and, before he can grow too comfortable, you lean in and bite his cheek. 

The general makes a noise of surprise, grunting as he pulls away from you to narrow his eyes at his perpetrator. His pout morphs into a lazy smile as he holds your glare. “If you wanted to play you could have just said so, sweetheart,” he says lowly, moving his free hand from your back to letting it rest lazily on your hips, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the exposed skin. 

You stick your tongue out at him stubbornly, “Not now, I have to get up.” Unfazed by your headstrong attitude, Jing Yuan shifts one of his legs to come between yours- his strong thigh sandwiched between your soft ones. A surprised gasp leaves your lips in response to the smooth way he molds his body to yours, but you refuse to allow yourself to be swayed by him. 

“Aeons- ‘Yuan please,” you huff quietly, but he notices the way your voice catches in your throat. His golden eyes briefly shine with what could only be described as mischief and, with a smooth motion, Jing Yuan grabs ahold of your shoulder and swivels you around so that your back is against his chest. A surprised oof rips from your throat as you bounce lightly on the bed from the impact- he lowers his face to yours, a rich, deep chuckle echoing in your ears as your resolve begins to melt away. 

Taking advantage of the new position, Jing Yuan throws a leg over yours to trap you in and, in turn, grinds his growing bulge against your ass. If he wasn’t hard at the sight of your face in the morning when he first woke up, he sure was now; while he slowly ruts against you, he allows his hands to wander down to the hem of your shirt. 

You stifle a moan as the metaphorical dam in your head begins to crumble apart. Sure, you would see him when you would get back home later, but you were with him now. Laying here with your lover, safe and comfortable in his arms while his clothed erection lazily thrusts up into your heat. 

As you let out needy whines that you aren’t even aware you’re voicing, Jing Yuan brings his lips closer to your ear. “Five more minutes?” he asks with a knowing smile, his own breath becoming more and more rugged the more he rubs up against you. Gods, he could feel you throbbing through his sweatpants and your panties. 

You swallow thickly and whine in response, your head already fogging up with desire. Going a whole two weeks without sex wasn’t particularly hard; you had your trusty toy with you and your hands if it happened to run out of battery and you were that desperate. But you weren’t- and during these past two weeks you had felt just fine, totally not pent up or even the slightest bit sexually frustrated. Your job had kept you busy, but when you’re stuck in Jing Yuan’s arms after not feeling him for so long, after not feeling his cock twitching inside you, you felt like something snapped inside you.

Distantly, you think about how pathetic this must look for him; only a few lingering touches and his hips pressing up against yours from the back and that’s all it takes for you to drench your panties. But really, you couldn’t care less. You knew he was just as pent up as you were. 

You bring one of your hands down to fumble with the hem of your panties to quickly take them off, down your legs. Hearing Jing Yuan’s hoarse breathing in your ears only made you even more eager to feel his skin right up against yours. Maybe part of the reason why you were so incredibly turned on was because of how tired you still felt, but either way, you needed him. And he needed you just as badly. 

The general’s hands leave you temporarily to slide his sweatpants down to his thighs, low enough for his cock to leave its confines. Precum builds at the tip, swollen and pulsing with the need to bury itself inside you. He sighs, one of his hands coming up to stroke his length, thumb sliding over the slit every time his fist comes up. You whine at the loss of his hands on you and reach back to take his hand, bringing it between your legs to rub your clit. He laughs at your impatience, shifting his weight on his other arm to lean over you properly. 

“Someone’s impatient and greedy,” he goads. “I thought you wanted to get to work, darling,” he purrs in your ear, his middle and ring finger coming together to tease your bud, riling you up further and making a mess between your legs. A strained fuck leaves your lips as you back your ass up into him, his hard cock tucked between your thighs, rubbing into your arousal. “Please just-” a whimper interrupts you as Jing Yuan increases the pace of his fingers, “-inside. I-I need to feel you,” you huff, feeling too empty. He considers teasing you some more, listening to the wet sounds of your pussy bounce off the walls of your shared bedroom, but his own patience was also waning thin. 

A quiet noise of protest leaves you when the man takes his hand away from your bud. He brings his fingers up to his lips to lick your slick off of them, moaning at the taste. Your thighs clench in response, jerking the general’s cock unintentionally. 

“Fuck,” he growls into your ear, hurriedly taking his length into his hand to guide it into your soaking wet cunt. Your mouth hangs open when you feel his tip slip between your lips, needy noises slipping from your mouth. Inch after inch he sinks into you, slowly letting you accommodate to his girth. He finally bottoms out, stretching your hole as you keen and whine from the satisfaction of feeling so full. 

He waits a few beats to allow you to get used to him, your hoarse breathing matching his own. When he feels you clamping down on him less, he starts to thrust- pulling out slowly and thrusting back in sharply. You moan aloud, mouth agape as his cock bullies your spongy walls relentlessly. 

“Jing Yua-aan,” you whimper, hands gripping onto his forearms weakly, nails forming crescent shapes into his skin. He reduces you to a sleepy, blabbering, moaning mess as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the bedroom. With one hand splayed across your lower tummy, he presses down, making you arch your back into him from the sudden added pressure and pleasure. 

“Y’ like that? You missed me, huh?” he taunts, though his own voice trails off into a needy moan the more he feels the drag of your walls along his cock. “I know I’ve- fuck, m-missed you,” Jing Yuan stutters, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he feels a familiar coil form in his abdomen. His thigh muscles clench as he wills away his orgasm, needing to feel you all around him for a bit longer. 

Unable to respond you simply nod dumbly, the words leaving your brain as it’s reduced to mush. Your lover hums, a smirk stretching his lips, “Yeah?” He brings his face closer to yours, your breaths tangling with each other before he smashes his lips against yours, the angle awkward and uncomfortable. But you don’t care- the added stimulation makes you melt as you crane your head back to kiss him properly, your lips occasionally leaving his from the force of his thrusts. 

Jing Yuan moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss. He looks at you with pure lust swirling in his golden eyes, your face sinful and needy. An idea pops up in the general’s mind and he smiles down at you, pressing one last chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Ah, w-what are you-” you slur, your sentence interrupted by the general manhandling you to switch positions. He kicks the sheets off completely and places both of his large hands on your waist, gripping you firmly as he lays on his back, placing you on top him. His cock slips out of your walls with a wet shlick and you whine at the feeling of being so suddenly empty, twisting your body so that your thighs straddle his hips. Jing Yuan looks up at you with a small, cat-like smirk and your breath catches in your throat. 

His silky hair splayed out on the pillows beneath him, cheeks flushed, and eyes piercing into yours made your knees buckle and you suddenly froze in your movements. Feeling your pussy throb against him, Jing Yuan chuckles heartily, one of his hands leaving your waist to stroke his hard cock, your slick dripping down on him. 

“Lift your hips up and sit on my cock, darling,” he orders softly, a stark contrast to the way he looks at you- with pure, unfiltered lust and adoration. Your body moves automatically as you obey, hovering your tight pussy over his swollen tip, and lower yourself down. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and you feel his girth stretching you out again as you begin to bounce on his hard cock. 

“Yeahh just like that,” he hums, the hand that held his length moving up to rest on your stomach, thumb jutting out to rub tight circles over your sensitive clit. You squeak in surprise, your body jolting forward, and place your hands over his plush chest for balance. “Feels good, baby? Feel how deep my cock is?” 

A moan leaves his kiss-bitten lips and you swear you physically felt yourself get pushed closer to your nearing orgasm, the noises leaving his lips amplifying your pleasure tenfold. “Taking me so well, look at that pretty pussy,” he coos, and you keen as his half-lidded eyes burn into yours. He feels your walls clench in response to the praise and flashes you a dangerous smirk; he places his feet flat on the bed and tightens his grip on your waist to buck his hips up, making you topple over him. Your gaze is unfocused and blurry as you look down at him, heavy breaths leaving your lips, tears threatening to roll down your rosy cheeks from the pace he set. 

“And look at you,” he whispers lovingly under his breath. Jing Yuan throws his head back deeper into the pillows, keeping his eyes on you as he watches you lose yourself to the addicting feeling of his cock bullying your sopping cunt. “Y-Yuan,” you whine, your climax threatening to rip through you as you bite your lip to stifle your needy moans. He tuts, leaning up to bite your lip to pull you out of your pleasure-filled daze. 

“Pay attention to me darling. Thaat’s it, let 'em out for me.” The general huffs, brows furrowing in concentration to focus on the feeling of your warm walls surrounding him, sucking him in endlessly. His thumb presses down onto your clit roughly to bring you closer to your orgasm; you whimper in turn, a chorus of oh fuck and please’s leaving your puffy lips. “I-I’m so close,” you whine, eyelids fluttering shut as you feel your control leaving your body, the tight coil of your orgasm threatening to snap. 

Jing Yuan groans, hips bucking up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he keeps up the pace, persistent. “Come on, give it to me, pretty girl.” He coos, voice breaking into a whine, close to climaxing himself. His thrusts become sloppier, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle a string of hearty, needy moans. 

His hips still up into you as he cums, thick ropes of his seed painting your walls white. Jing Yuan’s thumb flicks your puffy clit until you climax as well, your cunt milking his sensitive cock. You whimper, feeling your clit buzz with overstimulation as he keeps rubbing it with purpose. “S-Stop, stooop,” you cry, your eyes burning with tears as the dull pain turns into pleasure, “Aeons you’re so tight.” Your lover slows down his movements, easing the tension in his muscles, until he stops circling your clit and gently places both of his hands on your waist. His hands slide up and down your sweaty skin, soothing the bruises that will inevitably form.

Your body slumps, exhausted and utterly spent, arms caging him as you rest your face in the crook of his neck. You both feel sticky and sweaty, but the warmth you shared made up for the need to jump in the shower to wash yourselves off. Jing Yuan shifts his hips so that his softening cock slips out of you; he inhales sharply, his cock still sensitive. 

“I missed you,” you mumble quietly, voice muffled from the way you're pressed into him and the pillows and press a chaste kiss to his neck. “Yeah? I never would have guessed,” the general chuckles, arms coming up to hug you tightly, one hand placed behind your head to cradle you close to him. You hit him with a huff but then sigh, content. 

“Mmh, but I missed you too, darling,” Jing Yuan replies softly. He holds you as your eyes droop, exhaustion taking ahold of your tired body. His own eyelids droop as he listens to your soft heartbeat, and soon enough, you’re both sleeping, legs tangled together while Jing Yuan’s strong arms keep you laid atop of him. 

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you hear a phone ringing loudly in your ear, jolting you away from your peaceful dreams. You don’t recognize the tune, and as you’re about to wriggle your way out of the dozing general’s arms, he swings one arm over to the nightstand next to your bed and answers it without looking at the caller ID. “Jing Yuan speaking,” he says in a hoarse voice, eyes still closed. 

Even without his phone on speaker you could make out a very loud, very shrill voice from the other side of the line, yelling out two hours late, a single mission and get your ass over here. Jing Yuan doesn’t react, the same sleepy, cat-like smile on his face as he listens to the person rant. They eventually let up and hang up, saying something you couldn’t quite catch. Your lover haphazardly tosses his phone somewhere on the bed and loops his arm back around you, nuzzling into your neck. 

“Who was that?” you ask, voice cracking from how much you abused your vocal cords (apparently) two hours ago. He scoffs, amused, and pulls away just enough to speak clearly. 

“Lady Fu Xuan,” he says slyly. “I should get dressed before she decides to read into my divination and sees things she probably shouldn’t.”

[nameless-jamie]

Can we get some PA and Jamie’s mum and Simon interaction? 💙💙💙

The Tartt's

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing

A/N: Sure, I love this idea. Guys keep sending me more ideas, love your requests. Ready for some pushy loving parent moments?

As his personal assistant, Y/N had gotten used to handling all aspects of Jamie Tartt’s life—from scheduling his training sessions to making sure he actually showed up to interviews on time. But coordinating a surprise visit from his mum and Simon? That was a new challenge entirely.

The last few weeks Jamie was very well-behaved. He was still annoying, but he worked hard to show up on time and make Y/N's life as his assistant and friend way easier. He was also very hard-working and trained his ass off. That paid off because he scored 5 goals in the last three matches!

As a little treat Y/N wanted to surprise him with his favourite people in the world. His mum and step-dad Simon. They live 3 hours away from Richmond in Jamie's hometown Manchester. He doesn't have time to visit them much, so any updates Georgie, Jamie's mum gets, are from Y/N.

Y/N and Georgie text and call often, not only to keep her updated on Jamie's life... Georgie and Simon had always been a fan of Y/N, calling her love and darlin’ whenever they met or talked. Asking Jamie where Y/N is at, whenever he FaceTimed them. Georgie would gush about how lucky Jamie was to have Y/N keeping his life in order, while Simon, in his usual dry humor, would mutter something about her being the real MVP of the family.

Georgie is also sure that Y/N is going to be her daughter-in-law... But she wouldn't rush those kids. She just knew.

And now? Well, now, they were showing up at Nelson Road to surprise Jamie at training.

Y/N stood outside the training ground, scrolling through her phone when she spotted the familiar couple heading toward her. Georgie’s face lit up the second she saw her.

“Y/N, my love!” Georgie beamed, pulling her into a warm hug before Simon wrapped an arm around her shoulders in greeting. “Oh, it’s been too long! Jamie giving you any trouble? Bet you’ve got your hands full. Love that boy to pieces, but he's a bunch of work sometimes.”

Y/N laughed. “You have no idea. But he's been good the last few weeks. I missed you guys so much and I know he's missed you too. So let's go surprise him!”

They started the walk to the pitch. Simon snorted wrapping an arm around Y/N and Georgie. “Reckon you’re the only reason he’s not showin’ up to training in his bloody dressing gown, right Y/N? By the way I brought your favorite shortcakes.”

"You guys spoil me and I'm not even your daughter!"

Georgie linked arms with Y/N as they headed toward the facility. “Who says you're not our daughter! Honestly, love, I don’t know how you do it. If Jamie were my boss, I’d have quit ages ago. Does he still sleep bottomless?”

Y/N blushed after hearing Georgie call her, her daughter. “Oh, believe me, Georgie, I've considered quitting like every day,” Y/N joked. “But then who else is going to make sure he eats actual food instead of just protein shakes and gummy bears?”

Georgie shook her head fondly. “That boy. Honestly. You are a saint, Y/N. And you know you’re basically family at this point, right? He should just marry you already...”

Y/N smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Well, I—”

Before she could finish, a voice interrupted from across the pitch.

“Mum? What the fuck?”

Jamie stood a few feet away, brows raised in confusion as he took in the sight of his mum, Simon, and Y/N looking very chummy.

Y/N grinned. “Surprise.”

"Language, Jamie!" Georgie shouted, angry at Jamie's fruity outburst.

Jamie blinked. “Why—how—”

"Surprise, baby!" Georgie squealed, throwing her arms wide, and before Y/N could even register it, Jamie was bolting across the grass, launching himself at her like a six-year-old.

She oofed at the impact, but Jamie just clung to her, his head buried in her shoulder.

“Mum,” he muttered, voice muffled but so full of love. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Y/N folded her arms, grinning as Simon walked up beside her. “He’s such a mumma’s boy.”

Simon chuckled. “The biggest. Watch this.”

Georgie’s face lit up. “Oh, Jamie, look at you. You’ve been eating well, right? Getting enough sleep? Moisturizing?”

Jamie sighed, leaning into her touch like an overgrown golden retriever. “Mum, yes. I’m fine.”

Georgie turned to Y/N. “Is he lyin’ to me?”

Y/N smirked. “You know what? He has been skipping breakfast.”

“Mum, no I haven’t—”

Georgie gasped dramatically, smacking his arm. “Jamie! That’s awful for your metabolism! You need to eat in the mornings, baby, I told you this!”

He turned to Y/N, slightly betrayed that she told on him, but happy. “You did this, huh? Brought them 'ere” he gestured towards his parents.

“Obviously.” She crossed her arms. “You haven’t seen them in ages, and I figured you could use some family time instead of annoying me all day.”

Georgie beamed, patting Jamie’s cheek. “She’s right, you know. You’re lucky she puts up with you.”

Jamie scoffed, blushing a little. “Yeah, yeah. Everyone loves tellin’ me how lucky I am to have her.”

Simon clapped a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Well, mate, you are.” Then, with a smirk, he turned to Y/N. “Tell me, love, how long you plannin’ to put up with him before you make it official?”

Y/N choked on air. “Wait, what?”

Jamie turned bright red. “Simon, mate, shut up.”

Simon ignored him, grinning. “Oh, come on. We all know it’s gonna happen eventually.”

Georgie nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I’ve already decided Y/N’s my daughter-in-law, whether you two want it or not.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “Jesus Christ.”

Jamie groaned even louder, now totally embarrassed. “Bloody hell.”

“Oh, don’t act like it’s a bad thing,” Georgie said, waving him off. “You love her.”

Jamie scoffed, folding his arms, but there was a telltale blush creeping up his neck. “Mum! I do not. Don't say stuff like that.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Really? So why’d you spend all last Christmas on FaceTime with us, complainin’ that she wouldn’t answer your texts?”

Jamie’s face flamed. “I did not—” He turned to Y/N. “I didn’t, okay?”

Y/N grinned. “Mhm. Sure.”

Georgie nudged her playfully. “You should’ve heard him, love. Walkin’ around all moody, muttering, ‘Dunno why she’s ignorin’ me, I’ve been proper nice to her this year.’”

Simon snorted. “Proper sad, it was.”

Jamie groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Y/N, thriving off of his suffering, smirked. “Aw, Jamie, you missed me?”

He huffed. “You know I did.”

The way he said it—low, almost begrudging, but completely honest—made Y/N’s stomach flip.

Georgie waggled her eyebrows. “See? You do adore her.”

Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically. “Right, well, this has been proper fun for everyone except me. I need to shower.”

He turned to Y/N, eyes flicking over her with something way too mischievous.

“Fancy helpin’ me pick out my clothes, love?” he teased. “Heard my mum...You are my future wife, after all.”

Y/N scoffed, trying to ignore the heat crawling up her neck. “You’re impossible.”

Jamie winked. “You love it.”

Georgie sighed dreamily. “God, you two are ridiculous.”

Simon nodded. “Just date already.”

Jamie and Y/N groaned at the same time.

“No one asked you!”

[leashybebes]

queer feelings - 7

one | two | three | four | five | six

Buck is aware that he is…not giving the best account of himself, but he can't seem to get a handle on it. Alannah's gorgeous, and funny, and interesting. And she's bisexual. She's bisexual like him, and he apparently can't be normal about it.

He's talking too much about being bi, and he's distantly aware that he probably sounds like a sheltered kid on his first day at the LGBTQIA+ society in college. Not that he'd know, really. But it's how he imagines that would feel.

"Like I went on a date with this girl," Buck says, "And I mentioned that my ex was a guy and she got - really weird about it."

"Oof," she says, taking another sip of her drink. "Yeah, been there."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm. I mostly date other bi or pan people now."

"Oh?" Buck's not sure what to make of that. She seems really nice, and he wouldn't be sitting here with her if he'd only checked the box for interested in women. Like, they have this thing in common, which is nice, but it's also…a prerequisite?

"I've met way too many straight guys who are a little too into it, and a decent number of lesbians who are just straight up weird about it," Alannah's saying, so casual and unbothered, and Buck wants to listen to her talk about it for hours.

He feels a familiar wave of outrage on her behalf, but it's tempered by the knowledge that - that that's him too, now. He gets to be annoyed about that for himself, too. 

"That really sucks," he says.

She shrugs, casual and elegant - she really is pretty, and Buck's interested in her, but he doesn't know if that's because he's interested-interested, or just because she's the first person he's really met who uses the word bisexual like it's simultaneously not a big deal, and also like it's kind of the bedrock of who she is as a person.

"Biphobic assholes are always gonna be out there. Too gay for the straights, too straight for the gays. But that's not all people. It's not even most people if you don't surround yourself with assholes."

It feels like getting hit in the back of the head. Too straight for the gays. Huh. 

"It doesn't matter," she goes on. "But it is important. You get me?"

"Uh. Not really," he admits, and she smiles.

"Okay. Like - was the fact that you fucked women the most interesting thing about you before you came out?"

Buck almost chokes on his beer. Alannah rolls her eyes and smirks at him.

"Guess not," he admits.

She shrugs. "But it was an important part of how you saw the world, right? Like I said. Doesn't matter. Is important."

"I get it," he says. And he does. It doesn't matter. But it's important. God, it's really important.

She nabs the last fry from the basket between them and looks at him, considering. "I mean this in a nice way," she prefaces.

"Uh-oh," Buck jokes, and she smiles at him, leaning forward a little.

"You don't have a ton of queer people in your life, right?"

"Um." Well, there's Hen and Karen. There's Josh. There was Tommy. That's not a lot of people. But as like, a proportion of the people he does have in his life, it's not small. That's a depressing thought, all of a sudden. Not the relative queerness, but the size of his network. "I guess," he admits.

She smiles at him again, realer this time, a little lopsided. She's so cute.

"You might wanna work on that," she advises, and Buck thinks he will.

They move onto other topics - the things about themselves that are more interesting - but that thing she said about too straight for the gays keeps ticking around in his head. Is that what it was? Was that part of it?

"Can I see you again?" he asks at the end of the night.

She hesitates. "You're a good guy, Buck. But I don't think you're for me."

"Oh. Oh, sure," Buck says. "Friends?"

"I'd like that," she says, and she seems sincere. "You know, I actually have a friend that's gonna adore you."

It's the nicest brush-off he's ever gotten. The best failed first date he's ever had.

[dooberific]

❝ 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘗𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘐𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slightly suggestive, we are back on the boy failure train

summary: reciprocity is the key to keeping all 'professional' relationships afloat

wc: 1.3k

note: I’m working on the requests submitted (plus my own ideas) and will have them queued to post over the next week or so! Thanks for the love ❤️

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You drawled as you propped up on your elbows, sunglasses tipping down your nose with a grin. 

The waves that rolled into Port Elpis had made for a perfect slow, rocking motion for a nap in the sunshine. It would have been a shame to not take advantage of it you had thought as you shimmied out of your top and stretched out across the deck of your boat. 

It was a sun kissed day in heaven in your book, the gentle crank of your fishing pole and the distant song of the gulls working their magic to lull you into a state of peace until you heard the telltale thump of feet down the pier in your direction. 

Harumasa sucked a breath between his teeth as he shook his head, fighting off a smile in the name of professional courtesy. “Tempting offer, but I’m on the clock so I’ll have to decline.” 

You shrugged, pushing your glasses back up as you folded your arms back behind your head. “Suit yourself, law man.” 

“You say that like your office isn’t right down the hall from mine.” 

You groaned, plucking the half empty beer can from your side, waving it in the air like a trophy. “I’m trying to conveniently forget that right now, Asaba.”

It was one of your coveted days off, and you wanted nothing more than to forget everything related to hollows, H.A.N.D, and Section 5 in favor of a cold beer and a basket of greasy fries from the stand at the parking lot by the marina.

“I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you need something from me, and not that you get off on watching girls sunbathe.”

“You’d guess right, but it’s not that I don’t appreciate the view,” he corrected as he stepped off the pier and onto the boat, footing unsteady with the bobbing of the waves that lapped at the sides of your vessel. 

He passed a Manila folder into your waiting hands, watching as you indiscernibly skimmed the contents behind your sunglasses. He crouched down beside you, head cocked as he watched your facial expression shift unpleasantly.

You snapped the envelope shut before raring back and smacking him across the chest with it, the force of your strike with the rolling of the boat dropping him from his heels to his ass with a oof!

“I told you I don’t do that kind of thing anymore. I’m a reformed—,”

“Member of society and a public servant, yeah yeah, but you are the only one who can help me with this!” 

“We have a whole department dedicated to cyber-related cases, Asaba.” 

“Okay fine you are the fastest way to get this done, but I’m practically begging on hands and knees here! Come on (y/n), we’ve been friends for years now. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was another way.” He rolled his lip out like a kicked puppy, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes even if he refused to fully break from his cheery, coy attitude. 

You sighed, head thumping against the deck as you mulled it over. Truthfully you had your mind made up already, you both had a healthy exchange of professional favors in your histories, and what was one more? What you wanted was honesty, because if he was asking you to stick your neck out it was the least he could do.

He had taken to pacing the deck now, your silence more disconcerting for him than your difficult attitude was. 

“This isn’t officially related to work is it?” 

He was silent, arms crossed as he stared out over the rolling blue waves, the tails of his headband fluttering in the same wind that tousled his hair. 

“No, it isn’t.”

Good enough, you weren’t one to pry too deeply. You already felt like you were a little more tuned into his personal issues than most others just from similar favors you had done for him in the past. 

“I’ll help you.” 

He whipped around, trademark smile curling his lips. “I knew you’d—“

“But you have to help me out first.” 

You stretched your arms above your head with a yawn, back arching invitingly off the deck. “I have no intention of leaving this deck, so be a dear and grab my laptop from inside—that’s not the favor though.” You quickly added as he hurriedly went to fetch your computer per request.

“What’s the favor then? Gonna ask me to scrub barnacles off your boat?” 

You snorted. “Nah, it’s just that on a day this pretty it’d be a shame to miss out on even an ounce of sunshine.” As you spoke your hands drifted from above your head, dragging slowly down the side of your neck to your chest as your shoulders bowed. 

You didn’t miss the way his eyes locked onto the trail of your fingertips as they drifted lower, ghosting over the contours of your stomach before slipping into the waistband of your shorts. Your hips lifted just enough to slip them past the curve of your ass, shimmying the fabric down till it hooked over an ankle. You kicked them off in his direction with a grin, watching him fumble to catch them before you slung a bottle of sunscreen at him as well. 

“Haru dear, be an angel and help me get my back.” 

You certainly weren’t expecting company when you had picked one of your…flimsier swimsuit sets to wear as you lounged on the water today, but the thick way he swallowed as you rolled to your stomach, propped on your elbows and drew your hair aside had you grinning like a lovestruck teenager. 

Shit, if he kept it up you’d have to invite him over more often. 

“I don’t have all day here~” You chided, twirling your hair around your finger as you peered at him over your glasses coyly.

“R-right, sorry,” he tossed your shorts aside, white-knuckling the sunscreen bottle as he hit his knees beside you. 

“Be gentle with me, Haru~” you cooed, relaxing your posture as you rested your chin on your crossed arms. 

You couldn’t help the way you tensed when his hands met your sun warmed skin, the cool temperature of the sunscreen on his palms a stark contrast. You could feel the callouses on his hands scratch at your skin as his fingers flexed hesitantly, kneading into the muscles along the curve of your spine. 

“You’re pretty good at this, I’d about pay to have to put your hands on me like this.” You mused aloud, feeling his hands pause  just shy of the tie on the back of your swim top as he cleared his throat. You rolled your head to the side.

“Don’t forget to get under the straps good, don’t want any unnecessary burn lines.”

His hands drifted higher, sliding under the straps of your swimsuit top and across your shoulders, the pressure of his fingertips akin to a massage as he worked the sunscreen into your skin despite the tremble in his hands.  You sighed dreamily as his hands retracted.

“Alright, you’re uh, you’re good.” 

“Perfect, thank you for that.” You hummed happily before you hooked your legs around his waist and shifted your weight, throwing him flat against the deck as you pinned him, one hand braced next to his face as you leaned over his proned form.

You tsked, drawing his chin up with your fingertips, enjoying how blown his golden eyes were with your proximity. “Haru, you need to get outside more, your little cheeks are awful red.” You cooed, watching his skin flush down his neck. 

You settled yourself back on his lap, wiggling your hips as he squirmed beneath you, your hands teasing the buttons of his shirt apart as you loosed the straps of his chest plate. Your hands splayed across his pectorals, as you leaned in close. 

“This could take a while,” you whispered, lips almost grazing his as you took care to grind against his lap. His breath hitched, hands latching onto your hips. 

“So how about you join me~?”

Rey 2024