#my only concern would be my workplace

[alliswyattonthewesternfront]

a violent ex who stalked me a decade ago, who i have not thought about since i put an end to his shit back in 2014, just liked a photo of mine from 3 years ago with his latest instagram account.

what's that meg thee stallion line? ain't hit this pussy in years, damn, i knew my shit was heat? she really nailed it with that one

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced bonding, subjugation, some type of discrimination, elements of androgyny

♡ fem reader

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

He could never bring himself to breed with Alphas. Growing up, he developed a great disdain for them—all high and mighty rabid animals prone to violence, more often than not completely dimwitted to top it off, as if their massive ego had usurped the place of basic brain operation.

He couldn’t hate them more, yet he doesn’t correct anyone when they mistake him for one, either. In many ways, he wished he was born one instead of an Omega. It would make it easier to fulfill his desires that way. A dominant Omega isn’t all that normal, after all—and submissive Alphas are an even rarer breed to come by.

He hadn't found one yet. And other Omegas don’t really do it for him. They approach him, thinking he’s an Alpha, then feel disappointed when figuring out he’s not—which is fine, as he isn’t particularly interested in their scent either. Betas make for an okay compromise—they don’t care if he’s an Omega, it makes no difference to them—yet he could never really shake the feeling that something was missing when lying with them.

At the office, the scent of Alphas plagues him all day—how they strut around, stinking up the place with no concern for anyone else. This is a workplace, for fuck’s sake—can’t they have a little dignity and not treat it like a mating ground? He really hates them. All bigheaded assholes—

“Ow—” there’s bark and a hard thunk of something hitting the floor.

Someone just bumped into him—someone so small he hadn’t even seen them over the top of his clipboard. Looking down, he sees a fellow Omega—a pretty one. You must be as disoriented by the scent around you as he is—probably why you walked right into him—poor thing. He ought to help you up.

You hold your head in your hand, wincing at the sting of your rear—you’d fallen right on your tailbone. Looking up, you give the fellow Alpha who’d knocked you down a mean glare, “What the hell, asshole!”

His outstretched hand stiffens midway. That’s not a very Omega-like thing to say—especially not by one so small as you. No, wait… what’s that scent?

You ignore his hand and get up on your own, dusting down your pin-stripes with angry brushes—face pursed, almost pouty, but not quite, too stink-eyed as you lean in and jab a finger into his chest to punctuate your words, “Watch where you’re going next time, you…”

You soften up halfway through the sentence. It must have dawned on you as well. His scent. Not like other Alphas, but something else entirely—something that suddenly makes you blush all over, wide-eyed.

You don’t say another word, only giving a weak huff before turning tail and stomping away.

There’s something very cute about it—he’s left thinking while watching you, utterly stunned and still, replaying the events that just occurred over and over in his head—wondering how he’d never seen you before. You must work on a different floor.

Luckily, he’d made sure to read your name tag—pinned all properly on your chest like a badge of honor, neatly like the rest of you. Well put together from the top of your salon-styled hair down to the tips of your pointy black stilettos. Even with their added height, you must have been two heads shorter than him—no taller than any regular Omega.

It's no wonder he mistook you for one. You were as cute as one, too—like a doll he could put behind glass, up on a mantle, and keep forever. But oh my… that mouth on you and that awful snarl. Just like any other imposing Alpha, he supposed. Bratty and arrogant, quick to jump the gun and pick a fight instead of taking it for the simple accident it was.

He goes back and sets himself down by his desk—but he’s way too distracted to work now, too busy with the thought of you. That flushed face you showed him before teetering off was something he wouldn’t mind seeing again—also that cute scowl under certain circumstances and what type of expression you’d give him if he wiped it off.

He's lucky an office party came along so quickly. He wouldn’t usually go, but now he had a reason. He bet you’d be there—the way you were dressed when you’d bumped into him tells him you’re one to respect the memo—head to toe in such a neat suit, trying to come off as androgynous as if in desperation needing everyone to know you were an Alpha. It must be hard for you—looking like that but wanting to look… well, suppose more like him.

He's glad he never felt that way—wishing to be smaller and cuter like other Omegas. Sure, he’s been envious of them at times, but more so of their easy pickings and not their appearance. He’s happy being bigger and stronger—it keeps unwanted attention at bay. You probably struggle to do the same. He bets you get a lot of the wrong eyes following you. Yeah… you must attract the bad sort all the time—alphas swarming you only to catch your scent and lose interest. Or maybe not… Alphas are sick, after all. Come to think of it, most of them would probably get off on dominating another Alpha. In that regard, it must have been worse for you than for him. Luckily, both of your issues are now solved.

He wondered what you’d wear tonight. You’d look much better in something feminine and not that suit you’d been wearing. He hopes, but no, you’re wearing much the same thing—another tailored two-piece that all but drowns you.

He understands what you’re going for. You have to dress like that, or else what Omega would ever want you looking the way you do? Aside from him, of course.

No matter. When you move in with him, he’ll dress you in all the pretty things he knows you want to wear. After all, pretty colors, ruffles, and lace will suit you so much better.

“Hello again.” He approaches you by the hors d’oeuvres even after you’d visibly and explicitly chosen to ignore him.

You groan under your breath, responding without even bothering to look at him, “Do I know you?”

Your tough act is cute. He has to withhold a chuckle before answering, “Don’t remember? You called me an asshole a week ago.”

“You walked right into me, so it’s not like it wasn’t deserved.”

You have to love that arrogance—that air of unfounded superiority. He wonders, where do you keep it all? “Well, how could I not? You’re so small I didn’t even see you.”

You’re quick to bare your teeth—obviously, he hit a nerve—showing him that same snarl you’d done back then. Cute little canines—he bet they won’t even hurt going into his neck once you mark him.

“Watch your mouth, Omega.”

Still, with a small smile, he feigns surprise. “Wow—are you an Alpha? Funny, I didn’t know they came in such tiny packages.”

It flusters you, no doubt—your brows lowered into a full glower now. “And I didn’t know Omegas could be so rude.”

You turn to stomp again, as you’d done before—though this time, he grabs your arm before you’re gone.

You whip around with another bark, “Hands off—"

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes unexpectedly, giving you puppy-dog eyes you hadn’t thought him capable of. “I should have been more mindful of my steps. It was entirely my fault.”

You go still at the sudden show of humility and respect. Finding yourself softening by the tilt of his head, bowing at you in acknowledgment of your higher standing. Not that many bother doing that to you—between mistaking you for an Omega or otherwise neglecting your standing as an Alpha, both due to your physique. Seeing it up close and so abruptly flusters you.

“Let me get you a drink to make up for it?” he offers politely, almost in plead.

Struck with feelings of somewhat regret for your own uncouth attitude, you nearly accept on a whim. “That’s kind…” But then think it over. You don’t really want to lead him on, either. You nearly stutter, yet steal yourself. After all… “But you’re not really my type.”

He hangs his head with a dejected sigh, “That’s harsh.” But he’d already figured as much and didn’t really care. Giving you his most sorry grin, he insists, “Humor me anyway? Just one drink so I don’t feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”

It’s clear you want to refuse—still, as suspected, your heart just can’t handle seeing a desperate Omega in need. Bless your dim Alpha instincts.

“Okay, fine. One drink, that’s all,” you end up agreeing. One drink can’t hurt, right?

You feel like a good Samaritan once the big hunk of an Omega runs off to fetch you a glass. Pitying him or even sympathizing, maybe—it can’t be easy for an Omega in the mating scene to look like that. No Alpha around would want an Omega bigger than them—it’s utterly emasculating, not to mention unnatural.

Of course, you’re aware you’re in much the same shoes as him—you’re not delusional. Only, it’s easy being an independent Alpha—you don’t mind being a lone wolf in the world—but Omegas were built to be domestic. So yeah, you pity him—the poor guy, he’ll probably never find a proper mate.

But you can’t let your pity grant him too many favors—you have no intention of taking on any charity case tonight, especially not a pity fuck. You’ll have one drink with him as a mutual apology. That’s all.

Luckily… one drink is all he needs. Add a little sprinkle of this and that in your glass, and you’re already in the palm of his hand.

He has to carry you bridal style before he’s even managed to lead you to the elevator—it’s empty all the way down to the garage. He puts you in his car, locks your seatbelt in place, then drives off. It’s honestly quite astounding how easy it had been. He’d thought trapping an Alpha would be a much more remarkable feat, an impossible one for an Omega—but this was no different from eating an unguarded piece of cake.

You’re drowsy as he carries you into his apartment. And that’s when the other drug kicks in. The overwhelming scent of being inside his nest sets off your rut like a matchstick being ripped along the red.

Your claws come out, puncturing his sheets as he lays you down on his bed.

You’re too delirious to do much but writhe—making it easy for him to unbutton your dress shirt, followed by your slacks. He has to scoff at your plain black boxers and binder bra. You poor thing, always trying to run with the big dogs when you’re no bigger than a bite-sized puppy. From now on, you’ll only wear lacey things he brings home for you. You won’t have to puff your chest—you can be as sweet and pretty as your delicate physique constitutes—his cutest, littlest, most perfect mate.

You gain newfound strength once he’s peeled your underwear down, baring your needy heat to his touch. Instantly, your arms spring into action, flinging themselves around him, pouncing like a predator at its prey with your fangs bared.

He stops you easily—placing his wrist between your teeth, using it as a muzzle. He chuckles, looking at you gnaw on it like a bone.

“I think the world has it all wrong,” he starts, though he’s not sure you’re even capable of understanding speech in your state. “Omegas are the ones better suited as leaders of society, not Alphas.”

As he talks, he continues with his ministrations, stroking your needy slit with a mean finger, swiping it cruelly before splitting between the folds.

“I mean, look at you—mindless in a rut, willing to pounce on anything that moves—like a wild animal.” Once he sticks his finger inside you, your teeth do his wrist the same justice—drawing blood, making him hiss through his smile, “I ought to keep you in a cage.” And yet he doesn’t pull either hand away. “It would suit you well—on your knees with a pretty leash and collar upon your throat.”

You’re wet in his hand—soaked and so warm he loses track of his own finger as if melting within you. His cock strains against his boxer, wanting to feel it for himself. But you’re still way too tight for that.

He feeds you another digit, and you moan—suckling on his wrist now more than biting, though still with your canines out and seeking.

“Look at these wittle teeth, tch—” he grins upon closer inspection, looking between them and your eyes—pupil-fat orbs, far gone in your instincts. “I bet they’re just itching for my neck instead, huh?”

The provocation seems to make you more desperate. Pumping you slowly, more so to stretch you out than stimulate, he can feel your breaths turn thicker with need, how you press your tongue against his wrist, wet and lousy, wanting for more.

“Well, go on then, Alpha...” He chuckles again, removing his arm from barring your mouth before wrapping your throat with the same hand, holding it like a collar, keeping you under control.

And then he bares his neck for you.

“I give my consent.”

♡ part two

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[secretidentie]

A rumor about Superman and batman dating starts making the rounds in the hero community and everyone goes crazy. Primarily, a group of heroes who don't approve of the relationship . Their reason? They don't approve of the relationship's "large power imbalance"

Some heroes don't think the imbalance is a big deal while others say it's the reason they can't support the relationship but regardless everyone thinks the imbalance is there and no one elaborates on what this power imbalance is because it seems so obvious to them. It's however not as obvious to Bruce and Clark.

Bruce: I do understand why people are concerned

Clark: Yeah but I would have thought people were over the fact I was an alien by now. I would never abuse that power

Bruce: .......Wait you think you're the one they're concerned about?

Clark: Well....yeah. Why else would everyone be making such a big deal

Bruce: well not only am I funding the league I also own The Daily Planet. Maybe they're scared I'm leveraging power over you

Clark: Bruce I literally have superpowers. No offense but they obviously mean me

Bruce : I have more contingencies for you then you could count and a larger hoard of kryptonite then Luther. They obviously mean me

Clark: I can move mountains and planets. I've fought the worst in the Galaxy. I'VE REVERSED TIME BEFORE, BRUCE . I'm pretty sure I could kill you easily (if I were to abuse my power which, you know, I wouldn't)

Bruce: No you couldn't. I'm batman

Clark: that's not a valid argument and you know it

Bruce: yes it is. I'm batman *Smoke bombs away*

This whole back and forth leads to the most annoying and petty dick-measuring contest you could imagine until a week later someone explains that everyone was concerned that two of the most powerful members of the league dating would make them overall much more powerful than anyone else in the league.

This whole thing is solved by batman giving a presentation on relationships in the workplace and how it will not affect how they work and a follow-up presentation on how he could totally beat superman in a fight if he had enough prep time.

Superman walks out soon after the second presentation starts and that sparks conversations of how a superbat break up would affect the league

[rockingbytheseaside]

I love your art and headcannons! I was wondering if you can do a headcannon for the harbingers with reader helping them with their work. Like helping pantalone with papers in his office or dottore with experiments or just passing tools to him?

✦ You help them at work (or how they just want you to stay around)

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone

✧ You felt heartbroken whenever Pierro relentlessly toiled as the Fatui Director. Hours spent at the imposing meeting halls of the Zapolyarny Palace or engaging in arduous negotiations for the organization's cause could hardly be enjoyable. Thus, concerned for your beloved’s well-being, you resolved to take on a more proactive role and assist The Jester on his behalf. 

“Today you will sit back and rest, Pierro. I will conduct your meetings… No buts or ifs.” 

The Harbinger blinked at you in wonder. Not because he disapproved of your presence, but because he vowed to work for your safety and comfort. However, you remained unyielding. Standing defiantly, with your hands on your hips, you announced that his stubborn protectiveness of you won’t change your mind. And who is he to deny you anyway? 

It seems you are the Fatui Director today. 

In his office, you meticulously tended to every minute detail. Whether it's preparing his tea, reorganizing essential documents, or double-checking all the archives and schedules. Any attempts from Pierro to assist would be met with you scolding him. And although he obediently stood back, he couldn’t help but smile fondly at your endearing sternness. If you take the lead, he is your loyal servant. Besides, whenever you conduct business negotiations on his behalf, things would always go accordingly (just don’t mind Pierro looming behind you, his icy glare threatening anyone you are talking with into obedience.) 

Once all was set and done, a sense of pride welled inside you, while Pierro mirrored your warm smile. You worked so hard to aid him… You just don’t have to know that he settled all difficult tasks in advance before you even entered his office. He was several steps ahead in everything, after all. Besides, he won’t argue when the result is him admiring your presence in his workplace. What truly matters now is the luxury of time to savor your love and hold you close without any worries about Fatui duties.

✧ When Il Capitano heard your suggestion to help, he felt worried. His work as a Captain required extreme physical exercise and was bodily taxing, regardless of the slower days when he overlooked the training of his specialized troops. Not only that but training under the strict regime of the 1st Fatui harbinger meant enduring a military-like attitude. And yet here you were, casually waving his worries off, promising to be an additional mentor training his soldiers.

“As long as you don’t wear yourself out, my loved one. It’s not just the fatigue and muscle soreness I worry about, but the attitude of my soldiers. They might not be as… lenient as you.” 

You soothed his concern every time he caressed your shoulder with worry or checked in on you. He was so tender when he was worried, you had to firmly hold his helmeted face and tell him sternly that everything would be alright. And how can he be worried when you smiled so easily at him? 

Thus, on the day of the soldiers’ training, Il Capitano introduced you as his equal and the additional instructor for today’s workout. You were such a stark contrast to the hard-faced troops who got used to battlefields and warfare. But you just stood there, waving casually… Perhaps you would fare well as the “forgiving substitute mentor”.

Alas, that was Capitano’s first mistake. 

Not an hour in, the group of soldiers you overlooked returned with bruises and distressed faces. Their gazes looked as if they saw unfathomable horrors, clutching their newly formed pains within their joints; the once stoic Fatui soldiers now flinched like children. When the Harbinger arrived to inspect, it seemed his worries were misplaced. Instead of you he should’ve been concerned about, he was now witnessing his troop being subjugated to merciless yelling from you as if his men never knew how to hold a weapon. 

That day, The Harbinger’s soldier begged him to never bring you as a substitute trainer again. At the very least, they never slacked off after that, in fear you might be brought back. Although secretly, The Harbinger could not deny his admiration. Who knew someone as cheerful and easygoing as his beloved would turn into a war machine when required? Your prowess never alluded him, but it definitely reminded him of your hidden allure to the smitten Captain.

“My moon and star, I am uncertain whether I can bring you back to my work once more. However, you must display your teaching methods in a spar for me in private, one-on-one.” 

✧ It wasn't at your suggestion that you found yourself in Il Dottore's laboratory, nor did he seek your assistance directly. Instead, it was one of his subordinates who came knocking on your door, bowing low. You were well aware of your beloved's tendency to hyper-fixate on his scientific endeavors, not welcoming any outside help that might divert his attention from his work. Nevertheless, a scowl crossed your face as you observed the desperate plea of the Fatui worker, imploring your aid.

“Please, I know I have no right to ask for anything, but you must help. The Doctor snaps at anyone who even breathes the wrong way. One wrong move and a scalpel will come flying straight at them. There is no other way to persuade our Lord Harbinger!”

You hummed wistfully but nodded - “I mean… I can help. Just bear in mind, I am no lab assistant. My aid will be minimal, but if it’s for Dottore, then I see where the issue lies.”

Thus, you found yourself paying an unexpected visit to your sweet Doctor’s lab. Precisely at the moment when one of his fiery reprimands was being delivered, a series of loud crashes reverberated from the imposing lab gates. Dottore was in the midst of an enraged explanation to his subordinates on why the rare Phlogiston from Natlan must not be wasted in excess when experimenting, his hand crashing on the metallic counter loudly.

“And if I found that any of you fools mishandles the Phlogiston, you will-”

“Will what?” Your voice interrupted, the Fatui assistant saw you approach from behind the Harbinger with your hands clasped behind your back. “What will happen, you said?”

Dottore froze. At your familiar voice, he casually turned to check on you, as if your mere presence in his workplace was an anomaly. Whatever lab tool or flask he was gripping was carefully put in its place. “Nothing. Nothing will happen, dear.” 

Hence, you chose to remain and offer assistance this time. Or rather, you quietly oversaw his laboratory work, providing minimal help without disrupting the actual scientific processes. You might argue that you hardly did anything that day, but the Fatui assistants? They were silently praying to the Tsaritsa’s merciful act of bringing a saint over here. Because the second your presence was known in this bleak, desensitized lab, Il Dottore’s attitude changed by a mile. 

He no longer snapped, slammed his fist onto counters, or even spoke loudly to his underlings. He suddenly turned tame. If he commanded something, and you interfered with his words, he would obediently change his mind as if you were the indisputable superior here.

“This testing is insufficient. We must retry it and double down on the sample for quicker efficiency-”

“Well, no, it's already late and it will be better to revise this experiment tomorrow.” - you stated simply, to which Dottore parroted with no hesitation. 

“You're right. It is late. The experiment will be revised tomorrow.” 

It's safe to say, the Fatui subordinates were left gawking that day. The formerly harsh and impatient doctor had transformed into a compliant child, allowing himself to proceed at a leisurely pace and follow your lead. Moreover, a simple touch on his shoulder from you or a soft smile would swiftly dissipate all his tension whenever he felt agitated. Not to mention you coaxed him to finish shift earlier for everyone. 

You should visit more frequently.

✧ Scaramouche hated having you help around in his work as a Lord Harbinger. Not because of your genuine consideration and effort, but because now he has to witness his foolish Fatui soldiers act all naive and joyous when you were around. 

Amidst a bustling workday of handling documents, gathering information, and conducting training sessions, time flew by effortlessly whenever you took charge. And the rest of the Balladeer’s subordinates adored you. You were easier to talk to, provided clear guidance, and attentively addressed any concerns affecting the mission or the staff. This stood in stark contrast to the Balladeer's snarky commands and derisive demeanor.

Alas, this is not why Scaramouche was standing with crossed arms, clenching his fists. One of the Fatui skirmishers was getting too comfortable with you as commander. Worst of all, your graceful smile was bestowed upon them, not him when he literally stood behind you. 

“Today's work has been completed.” - Lord Harbinger Scaramouche stated to his underlings. “You're dismissed. Now scram before I see any of your faces.” 

As the day progressed, you barely had a second to sit down, before a pair of slim arms encircled your waist tightly. Perhaps too tightly. Scaramouche’s face hung low on the crook of your shoulder, while his body pressed to your back with a mumbled grumble. - “Hm? What is it, Scara? I thought you were satisfied with the work done early.” 

"Don't waste your time helping the lazy fools. You’re supposed to stay with me a little while longer.” 

✧ Upon offering your assistance in advance, Pantalone's joyful grin would expand tenfold, reminiscent of a schoolboy eagerly welcoming his crush into his home. He would excitedly pace around, discussing arrangements to ensure your comfort. He'll bring your favorite beverages, perhaps some snacks, cancel all meetings so you'll have his undivided attention… 

“Pantalone, I said I will be there to help. Not go on a date.” 

But his head is not listening. Because once the day arrives and you begin to stride around in his office, he would remain stationary. Watching you with an adoring smile, hands clasped together. Whatever paperwork he was supposed to analyze was forgotten, and suddenly the 9th of the Fatui Harbingers forgot his own signature when you're around.

“Pantalone, are you listening? I reorganized these financial reports. And don't forget to reread the clauses in these receipts too… Are you still with me?” 

Yet all he could do was sit there and smile at how fondly you looked as a boss in his office. “...Yes dear.” 

You sighed deeply, knowing well he wouldn't accomplish any work today. However, after some gentle persuasion and the passage of time, you miraculously managed to guide your beloved into a state of complete concentration on his work. He sat behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork and skimming over documents. Adjusting his silver glasses, he then beckoned to you.

“Sweetheart? Could you step over here for a moment? I need you to review the numbers on these financial reports before I approve them. And your attention to detail has always been exceptional.”

You casually obliged, stepping next to his mahogany desk to look over the figures in the paper. Leaning over, you began reading, but Pantalone had other ideas. 

“Oh, this might be uncomfortable for you, dear. Come, sit here.”

Before you know it, you're pulled right over his armchair to plop comfortably onto his lap. And while you managed to determine that there was nothing faulty or inconsistent in the financial reports he is holding, you discerned his clever ploy - “Pantalone, these papers are already signed. There's nothing wrong with them.” 

However your beloved only beamed in triumph, his hands putting down the papers and coming to secure your place in his lap. 

“Oh, Is that so? Well, you’re already sitting here and it’s so comfortable. You can’t blame my longing for your continued presence, darling.” 

I’m still alive, I swear! Just busy exploring Natlan. Hope I didn’t sway too far off from the main suggestion with this fanfic. Thank you for reading ❣

[aouiaa]

NOT JUST ANYONE’S | A. ANDERSON

warnings and disclaimers, (enemies to lovers), porn w plot (yay), a word count of 15k+?!, wlw content, mean!abby, jealous/delusional!abby, mentions of reader’s hair, abby being a book wormy, abby describes the reader as a goddess (once), fluff, angst, different povs, bullying, light workplace mistreatment, SEXUAL CONTENT, mean/softdom!abby, sub!reader, semi-public sex (hospital’s office), panties stealing, spanking, cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, masturbation, usage of a vibrator (once), scissoring, squirting, nipple play, degradation, body workship/praising, overstimulation, usage of pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, good girl, dirty girl), cum eating, mutiple orgasms, DARK CONTENT, stalking, act of stealing narcotics, cursing, jealousy, alcohol/drug consumption, mentions of inflicting harm on others, acts of frame-up.

TAPE THAT MOUTH SHUT, this is probably one of the biggest/questionable pieces of art i’ve done. though it’s FINALLY fucking done idk how to feel honestly. i just feel like i have such an emotional bind to each and every piece of work i have done. this is my baby, the full nine months and everything, and now the world will see her for her. i feel like a mother watching her baby go off to kindergarten. :”(

ONESHOT PREVIEW | ABBY ANDERSON’S MASTERLIST

PRESENT TIME

saints mary’s hospital - 2:30 am on a saturday morning

the saying goes, “it’s not about how you start, it’s how you finish.” didn’t quite apply. time seemed to move in a blur, making it impossible to piece together a coherent thought. the room filled only with the echoes of your loud, wanton sounds mingling with abby’s, far removed from anything deemed professional. however you weren't concerned with those details, not at all. with the way abby was able to extract those sounds from your throat was almost painful.

almost.

abby derived an addiction from your pleasure. each moment of ecstasy seemed to fuel her further, driving her to amplify the tempo and depth of her ministrations. as the room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh meeting flesh and intertwined heavy breaths, something stirred within abby. something unfamiliar, uncharted. normally, she would exhibit unrivaled confidence during intimate encounters, but with you, it was different—more intense, deeper. a desperate craving to be perfect, to ensure you'd never seek anyone else, but her. she’d hate to admit it, but the realization gnaws at her: the longing for you even after this is over.

"who's making you cum tonight?" abby questioned the obvious, but her arrogance tone underlined the strong need for reassurance. your moans were her only response, and while she adored the sweet sounds, she craved more. a sudden shift in her fingers’ movements made you yell out, "you, abby.” your words punctuated by cries of pleasure.

abby's fingers, now confined within your tight grip, sensed the growing tension, the impending eruption, the imminent of your orgasm. "uh-huh, come for me," she ordered, "let me hear who’s making a mess of you."

the warnings of your impending release came with fervor, each thrust hastening to the inevitable snap of the tightening band in your abdomen. then when it did, a cry rang out, loud and clear, as her name left your lips in tandem with your essence painting her features. in this haze of euphoria, you suddenly find a sense of clarity, wondering how in all worlds did you end up in this situation, in the arms— or rather the mouth of your boss?

MONTHS BEFORE

saints mary’s hospital - 3:20 am on a monday night

the staff room was still mostly quiet, the faint sounds of a few muttered conversations and the soft hum of the fluorescent bulb created a low hum of background noise to complement the bigger situation in hand. you had just finished discarding your dirty gloves and discovered that some residue had clung to your uniform, prompting a soft groan of disgust to escape your lips.

you picked up another clean uniform and quickly changed into it, your mind wandering to the series of events that led you to this moment. working in a hospital meant dealing with a never-ending slew of new problems each day, some imprinting themselves in your memory more vividly than others.

and this time was memorable—at least for the night —for an aggravating sense. it was a vomiting incident in room nine that not only you witnessed, but you were also permitted to clean up after. fun, you thought sarcastically as you trudged your way with a bucket and sponge. nonetheless here you were, the aftermath, running a hand through your uniform to smooth out any wrinkles with your other hand on the doorknob, taking a long, exasperated intake prior to stepping out.

with a final exhale, you turned the knob and stepped out into the main hospital ward. the familiar sounds of hushed conversations and the constant hum of machinery filled your ears as you walked through the hallways.

with your desk in your line of sight now, your body starts to move faster as the thought of getting some much needed rest sets in. despite that, you took a quick glance around, searching for her presence, but finding no resemblance.

a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you settled into the plush chair, the cushions embracing your tired body. hands squeezing the pads provided on the arm’s office chair, this was heaven. but satan herself wouldn’t let that alleviation last for long, she never does. not in this hospital. your body suddenly tensed up and jerked forward as the sound of a hand slamming into the surface of your desk reached your ears. fuck, you thought, your head automatically turning to see the horned asshole with the little tail stuck up her ass.

“what the fuck was that back there, huh? i’ve had people complaining left and right.” she spoke, her face contorted with anger. you knew that was a lie, only there to further embarrass you in front of everyone. the “great” abby anderson was known to make something bigger than it actually was. but you’d be lying if you didn’t say that disruption left you breathless, seemed like all and any explanation that could clear your name left you, but even if you did, would it even work? or would abby deem it as a barely acceptable excuse, or quote “a three year old can lie better than you” excuse?

you could hardly breathe, your mind racing to try to explain yourself. every mistake seemed to be met with harsh criticism, and it was taking its toll on you. your voice wavered as you stuttered out a singular word in response: “what?”

abby’s expression only hardened further, her voice mocking your supposed ignorance. “couldn’t you see the medication you gave her was gonna result in nausea?”

each word was enunciated with sharp frustration, as if you were supposed to have known better, but you didn’t know. it wasn’t stated on the patient's file that she’d react like that. you followed protocol, knowing the consequences if you didn't, and followed through based on the information in hand. you weren’t in the wrong, and you explained that to abby.

though she didn’t seem to care at all, instead her words echoed through your mind like a painful reminder; you keep it up, and you’ll end up on your ass in front of this hospital.

her threat sent a pang of dread through you, and the loud thud of her office door shutting only added to your sinking feeling. you let out a heavy sigh, bringing your hand up to your eyes and rubbing them, trying to ward off the exhaustion and anxiety swirling within you.

your thoughts were interrupted as you realized the truth behind abby’s threat. you had a proven record as a dedicated and skilled employee, and deep down, you knew abby knew it too. there was a reason she couldn’t just fire you on a whim —she needed a valid justification to complete that pesky employee termination form sitting on her desk.

as you pondered on these thoughts, you let out a resigned sigh, the threat suddenly feeling less intimidating and more like a broken record you heard over and over again.

FIVE DAYS LATER

saints mary’s hospital - 11:01 pm on a saturday night

there was a newfound sense of comfort that accompanied your realization. although abby’s words still stung and cut deeply, you now had a silent reassurance— a knowledge that her threats were ultimately empty, that mere words could do nothing. your mind was now at ease, knowing that despite her harshness, she couldn’t truly harm you. the thought gave you a strange sense of power, even as she spewed her usual cruelty.

with your profound resilience, you found yourself feeling more lively and vibrant than before. you no longer fretted over every small mistake or worry constantly about doing your job wrong. your once reserved and introverted self now blossomed, making connections and building friendships where there had been none before.

amelia, the colleague who sat beside you for a year, but whom you had never truly spoken to, was now a friend, and the two of you formed a bond beyond just work-related interaction.

“darling, it’s wishful thinking that the inferno herself would let you off so easily,” amelia teases, the soft pads of her fingertips dancing along the keys of her keyboard. her familiar british accent rolls off and into your ear, making you scoff.

“it’s just for a day.” you mumble, your hands flipping the page to the never-ending paperwork waiting for you. you stop and look at amelia who’s now reclined in her chair, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.

“oh love,” laughed amelia, her playful jab at your wishful thinking only making her more endearing. “i’d love to entertain your rather ludicrous idea, but in doing so would be criminal!”

her words stung a little, you knew she was right, but hearing her say it out loud had you clenching your jaw slightly. abby would never agree to letting you take a day off from the hospital, it seemed like the whole place would fall apart without your presence.

and while it felt like an honor— at times. you longed for just one day off, a single day to rest amongst the countless days spent diligently working at the hospital. how criminal could that be? as amelia called it, you felt your shoulders sag and nodding quietly in resignation. your features must have betrayed your disappointment, as amelia swiftly noticed and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

amelia smiled sympathetically, her eyes soft as she saw your frustration. “cheer up, darling. it was just a quip.” she said softly, her tone filled with comfort.

you tried to hold back your tears when you spoke, your voice faltering as you looked up at amelia. “It's not that. i just… work my ass off, and don't even get the recognition i deserve.” your words trailed off as you let out a frustrated sigh. “and it's not like i’m just looking for that.” you pause to mend the right words together. “just some sort of break from it all.” you quickly sniffle, attempting to hide the tears that had escaped from your eyes during your confession. your embarrassment was evident as you turned away, trying to compose yourself. “god, i’m sorry for this.” you sighed heavily, reaching for a tissue to wipe away your tears.

amelia pats your shoulder, her voice filled with understanding. “no, no, i get it, darling. you need a break as much as anyone does in this bloody facility. perhaps more than hamburger-munching samson over there.” she quips, referring to a less than efficient employee.

you let out a tearful laugh, your grin still tinged with sadness. “yeah.” you agreed, your voice heavy with resignation.

amelia smiled warmly at your smile, her hand giving your thigh a comforting pat. “go ask her, and if she doesn't oblige, tell her i'll cover for you.”

her sweet words of offering to cover for you had you fighting back tears again, determined to not further burden her with your crying, and managed to let out a shaky chuckle.

you try to protest, feeling a pang of guilt for potentially inconveniencing her. “you don't have to do that.” you say softly.

however, amelia is resolute, dismissing your objections with a firm, yet gentle push. “no darling,” she replies firmly. “i don’t, but i want to. now go on.” her insistence is unwavering, and you can see that she will not take no for an answer.

with a resigned sigh of “okay”, you straighten your shoulders and approach the entrance to abby's office. a quick glance back at amelia sees her raising her thumbs in a gesture of encouragement to go ahead. you return a grateful smile before turning back around and lifting your hand to knock on the door. but before your knuckles make contact, the door swings open, revealing abby.

you freeze in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of abby before you even had the chance to knock on the door. you realize you must look like a fool, standing there frozen with your arm raised in the air. feeling a sudden pang of self-consciousness, you quickly lower your arm and bring your other hand up to cup it gently, almost as if you could somehow conceal your awkward position.

abby’s smile catches you off guard, surprised to see her display such genuine happiness at your surprised arrival. "oh—there you are.” she says.

you stand there, slightly confused by her unexpected demeanor. her next words, spoken calmly, further perplexed you: "come in." this gentle tone is unfamiliar coming from her, as she's never used it with you before, reserving it only for the presence of supervisors.

she leaves the door open for you, a silence gesture for you to enter before taking her seat at her desk. "i was going to call for you, but it seems like you heard my call telepathically." she quips, chuckling at her own joke.

you internally scoff at her stupid joke, quietly shutting the door behind you as you enter her office. "well, don't just stand there, sit." she instructs, her smile still uncharacteristically cheerful— almost eerie. you can't help but wonder if this is all just an act, a facade that will undoubtedly crack like it always does, given abby's fiery nature. however, you comply silently, watching her sift through documents on her desk.

you struggled to keep yourself from asking what she was searching for after you caught a glimpse of it being the employee files. your heart began to race as an oppressive silence enveloped the room, fueling your nerves. was she looking for your file? was this gonna be the moment when she’d reveal the anticipated reason to use on that dreaded employee termination form? your mind swarmed with questions, each more pressing than the last. how much more can you deal with this suspense looming over your shoulder like the grim reaper.

you attempt to speak in a firm tone, but your voice betrays you, wavering at the edges. “why are you so happy?” your own curiosity battling with a sense of reluctance to hear the answer.

“and why are you so gloomy?” she taunts with a smirk, chuckling. “put a smile on that face for me, yeah? you’re gonna do me a big favor.” she admits, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she mentions the word “favor.” finally finding the paper she had been searching for, she slid it across her desk in your direction. the paper contains the resume of someone you’re unfamiliar with, and your curiosity piqued.

"this is cassidy mcclair," she pauses. "and you'll be her mentor for the week. she's the new replacement nurse after what happened to poor old sadie." a pang of irritation stabs at you as abby uses a condescending tone when mentioning sadie. her untimely demise still weighed heavily on your mind.

you inadvertently let out a scoff as you cross your arms, immediately regretting the impulsive action. abby glances up at you, arching her eyebrow before speaking.

"is there a problem?" her question rhetorical, signaling her indifference to your potential objection. however, you're determined to express your feelings, regardless if rhetorical or not. you werent gonna give some half-ass smile and nod. after all, it wouldn’t be the first time your opinionated mind got you into trouble, as abby so often reminded you.

you respond with a defiant tone, your words clearly expressing your dissatisfaction. “yeah, there is actually.” you retort, your arms remaining defiantly crossed. “you’re supposed to do this. not me.”

abby chuckles at your boldness, her expression growing serious as she responds, “that was rhetorical, surely anyone with a hint of common sense would catch on. frankly, i don’t give a fuck if it is.” she dismisses your argument, beginning to organize the documents on her desk, grabbing the paper in front of you without sparing an eye, her attention now focused elsewhere. despite your differences, you remain silent, yet seething within at her dismissive response.

“be here at eight pm sharp on monday.” she adds, ending the conversation on her terms.

so much for a day off..

AN HOUR AFTER

hospital’s break room - 1:17 am on a sunday morning

after your unsolicited meeting with abby, your emotions were overflowing and the need to confide in someone was at an all time high. though the term 'confide' may be a stretch, considering you practically unloaded your frustrations to the mere mention of "hey, heard you had a meeting with the boss?"

“she didn’t even let me speak, once!” you exclaim, frustration seeping through each and every word, punctuating your sentence with lifting your pointed finger.

talia responds with a sympathetic tone, saying, “she tends to do that..” her words trail off, and you can almost feel the strain in her voice, knowing that she’s the unsuspecting recipient of your pent-up frustrations.

“right! god, she’s so fucking…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe her. “infuriating!” you say louder than anticipated.

she looks up from the coffee maker, surprise etched on her face as other heads turn towards you, startled by your outburst. you sheepishly mutter an apology before letting out a dejected sigh. trying to lighten the mood, you force a smile and lean against the counter. "so, have you had to do any of abby's dirty work too?" you quirk an eyebrow.

the long haired girl chuckles at your antics, her gaze fixated on the coffee maker as it slowly fills her cup with the dark, yet energizing substance. she turns her attention back to you, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "yeah, actually.” she replies, her voice filled with good-natured sass. "but she made the task sound much kinder when she assigned it." she jested.

you jokingly say, "oh, fuck you," to which she responds with a playful eyeroll, but then curiosity takes over. "but really?" you ask curiously. "how'd it go?"

a dreaded sigh escapes talia’s lips as she recounts her memories of being assigned to mentor a new employee. the mirth vanishes from your expression as she begins to share her experience, the once lighthearted atmosphere replaced by a sense of foreboding.

“oh, terrible," talia responds through the sigh, her laugh edged with strain before looking back at the coffee maker, which is about a quarter away from being done. "sometimes, i wondered what would be inside her head if i were to cut it open. a brain made out of putty, or no brain at all?" her words make you wince as you begin to imagine what your own experience might be like. the idea of being a mentor to a complete idiot was less than appealing.

talia takes notice of your nervousness and quickly tries to reassure you, saying, "but i assure you, your experience won't be like mine." she offers a nervous smile, hoping to alleviate your concerns.

you respond with an uneasy chuckle and a reluctant "yeah.” not truly convinced by her reassurance. you know that only time will tell if her words will hold true, and so you find yourself resigned to the fact that you'll have to impatiently wait until monday to find out.

THREE DAYS LATER

your home - 6:03 am on a monday morning

the incessant blaring of your alarm felt like background noise for the past three minutes, though you've been wide awake for about ten minutes prior to its start. last night, sleep eluded you, as anxiety and exhaustion plagued your thoughts. you had hoped that your previous activities on your day off would tire you and help you sleep, but unfortunately, that was not the case. you had laid awake for an extra hour, struggling until sleep finally took over.

your anxiety, semi-dissociative state can be attributed to your "big day" ahead, as abby had nicknamed it. the thought of the unknown had you sweating bullets. not to mention, your boss’s words that stayed with you like crazy glue, stubbornly stuck in your mind. with reluctance, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom.

as you turn on the faucet, the soft meows of your kitty-cat, charles, reach your ears. your face lights up with a smile as you turn and spot him. you kneel down, showering him with a few gentle pets as he responds with a pleased purr. "hey, buddy," you whisper, planting a kiss on his head. you then stand up to check the water temperature, only to huff in frustration when it doesn't meet your desired level. turning to the kitty by your side, you murmur, "i know, bud. lemme feed you while i wait for the water."

the kitty yowls eagerly and paws at your legs, anticipating its food. you repeatedly tap the can's bottom against the bowl until the food finally falls free, landing on the plate. the cat's excitement escalates as it watches you kneel down to place the plate on the ground. chuckling, you observe the kitty pounce on the food as soon as it touches the ground.

“eat up, spud.” you give your feline friend one last pat before walking away to the bathroom. you undress and check the water's temperature once more, finding it to your liking. with a satisfied nod, you step inside, letting the hot water wash over you and momentarily rinse away your worries for today.

AN HOUR AND HALF LATER-ISH

saints mary’s hospital - 7:28 am

what was meant to be a calming shower had obliterated your sense of time, leaving you in a scrambling to finish your morning routine. with a start, you realize it was nearly seven-thirty, and sprung into action, throwing your clothes on at an almost superhuman speed. you had never dried your hair this quick before in your entire life. yes, abby had mentioned to be there at eight, but you knew that translated to "be there before eight."

you arrive at the hospital just before eight, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, knowing all too well that you wouldn't make it through the day without it. you quickly exit the elevator, stepping into the lobby to find abby engaged in conversation with a red-haired woman.

the ginger had her hair braided, resembling abby's but with more volume. her fair complexion was adorned with freckles, resembling a sky full of stars. like many others on this floor, she wore a blues-and-white uniform, with a small cat pin attached to her shirt pocket. her colorful keys hung around her neck, and her radiant smile oozed an infectious energy, effortlessly drawing a reciprocating smile from you as you approached.

your smile momentarily falters as you overhear abby's sarcastic, yet condescending tone. “oh, there's the princess!" she exclaims, closing the distance to you with the woman following suit behind. this must’ve been the woman abby was talking about, leaving you feeling increasingly anxious, your eyes locked on the girl behind her. however, abby manages to draw your focus as she speaks up.

“this is cassidy. the one i told you about the last time we spoke.” she says firmly, bringing her hand up to her shoulder and beckons her toward you.

“hi.” you say shyly.

cassidy reciprocates the greeting with a wave, her expression a mix of nervousness and surprise. however, before she can respond, abby cuts in, with a tone of sarcasm. “i trust you won't be as late as our little princess here was," she says, referring to you, causing cassidy to nervously laugh and answer with a tentative "no."

your frustration peaked as you clenched your fists, your anger evident. It was clear what abby was trying to do once again, to twist the truth and make you appear worse than you actually are. she smirked, seemingly enjoying your irritation, before patting cassidy on the shoulder and wishing her good luck.

with the condescending smirk, abby leaned in to whisper in your ear, her tone different, dripping with sarcasm. "good luck, princess." and with that, she walked away, leaving you to face the challenge ahead.

"cunt," you silently say to yourself in annoyance, sending a glare at abby's retreating form. after a moment, you plaster on a forced smile and turn your attention to the ginger girl in front of you. you extend a hand and saying, “hi, i’m y/n."

"hi, i’m cassidy, but you already know that," she laughs, taking your hand in hers and shaking it firmly. after releasing her grip, she absentmindedly begins to stroke her braid with the same hand, a subtle fidget that seems to be her go-to anxiety coping mechanism.

you smile, genuinely impressed by her hair color. “yeah, i love the color of your hair, by the way. it's beautiful.” a hint of bashfulness washes over cassidy's cheeks as she responds, "thank you, it's my natural hair."

you let out a soft "cute..." as your eyes dart over her vibrant locks before gathering your thoughts. "well, let's get to work," you sigh, beginning to walk over to your desk. cassidy quickly follows, and upon reaching your desk, you set down your things and greet amelia with a friendly smile. you then turn your attention back to cassidy, clipboard clutched in your hand.

“alright, just follow me this way.” you lead cassidy through the hospital floor, providing her with a tour of the different departments. while the tour starts off awkwardly, you and cassidy manage to strike up some small talk. despite her quiet demeanor, she proves to be a hard worker, efficiently tending to her tasks. you can relate to her reserved nature, knowing firsthand how it feels to be somewhat introverted.

FEW HOURS LATER

hospital’s break room - 12:40 pm on a monday afternoon

after having cassidy follow you around like a lost puppy, occasionally taking notes on her little cat shaped notepad when needed. you both sat in a corner, eating in comfort silence. amongst the normality, you couldn’t help but notice her lunchbox also in a cat-like shape. a soft chuckle escaped you, causing cassidy to look up from her food, her chewing briefly stopped to ask, “what?”

you point out the box which promptly makes her look down, mouthing “oh.” cassidy chuckles nervously, her cheeks tinted with a hint of embarrassment. "i suppose i’m a cliché," she admits, her smile widening. "it’s no secret now that i enjoy girly things.”

you nod, a smile playing at the corners of your lips in response. "i think it's cute." you utter with a slight smirk.

cassidy grins, a hint of self-consciousness in her expression. "you don't think it's too silly?" she asks, seeking validation.

"nope," you reply sincerely, “everyone has their own interests. who am i to judge?" you shrug, emphasizing the point.

cassidy chuckles again, playfully teasing you with her next words. "i'd beg to differ." she pauses for a moment, before continuing, "dr. anderson seems to be quite interested in you." her tone implies a hint of a tease, suggesting that abby's fondness for you may be noticeable to the people around you.

as soon as cassidy suggests that abby has a soft spot for you, you sputter and cough, practically choking on your food. between gasping breaths, you manage to exclaim, "what?! you definitely need your eyes checked!"

cassidy's eyes widen with concern, and she begins to pat your back to help you through your coughing fit. after regaining your composure, you nod, trying to play it cool as she asks if you’re alright. your voice is still strained when you speak, "i’m fine, but what makes you say something like that?" you ask, completely bewildered.

once she's assured that you're okay, cassidy begins to chuckle lightly and leans back in her chair, arms crossed in a confident stance as if she solved the equation pi in her one sitting. "i’ve seen the way she talks to you," she says, low and soft, smirking.

“yeah, she talks like she has a stick up her ass.”

your blunt comment about abby having a "stick up her ass" makes cassidy erupt into laughter. "yeah, that's—that’s definitely true," she concedes, still giggling, "but there's also… a passion behind it." she pauses before continuing. “It's like she does it out of love or something," her eyes fixed on you.

you let out an amused sigh and roll your eyes, responding with a playful retort, "yeahh, I don't know about that." you can't help but chuckle as you continue, "but, that’s definitely crazy talk." you tease, a hint of mirth in your voice.

cassidy laughs, feigning surrender by holding her hands up in a playful gesture. "hey," she says, a toothy grin plastered on her face, "i know what i'm seeing." she retorts.

you continue to eat, a scoff escaping your lips as you try to dismiss her earlier accusations. "you saw a bunch of nothing.” you remark, keeping your tone nonchalant. cassidy responds with a soft scoff of her own, but the silence that follows is strained, uncomfortable, well at least for you… you think.

your mind drifts back to all the times you've interacted with abby, a strange feeling beginning to grow inside you. there were no signs, no hint of anything more than anger and hatred, right? no itty bitty details so unmissable to others, but you? no, it couldn’t be, that’d be ridiculous, hell, every it'd be a synonym in the book ridiculous! there were never any crossovers besides hatred, a mysterious hatred, but hatred nonetheless. come to think of it, you never really found out why she hated you so goddamn much. was it envy? fear? if so, of what exactly?

whatever the case was, it doesn't matter. because you would fucking pay to see her at your mercy. beneath you with a look of hopelessness glistening in her eyes, for it to be her to struggle to utter a simple explanation, only for you to completely demolish the right of speaking. to watch that stupidly neat braid disheveled and her oh so infuriatingly muscular arms that seemed to taunt you, begging to be popped like a balloon.

yeah… you definitely hated this woman.

SIX MONTHS LATER

front desk - 1:30 pm on a wednesday afternoon

gathering any loose strands of hairs from the nape of your neck with one hand, you create a makeshift ponytail, struggling to keep a straight face as cassidy’s stifled laughter resonates nearby. you playfully chastise her, trying to suppress your own laughter.

“stop laughing,” you admonish, your attempt at a stern tone is undermined by your own stifled giggles. “you’re gonna get us caught!”

as luck would have it, you and cassidy had bonded over an unexpected shared interest— a love for plants. and they say that a mother’s life is over when they have kids. quite literal bullshit if you ask anyone with a brain. cassidy, besides being nature’s supporter, was also incredibly humorous, her wit and humor made work a little more bearable.

over a few rounds of cold beers, she had discovered abby’s mysterious hatred for you. her curiosity knew no bounds, weaving theories on why, but never truly connecting the dots. from that point on, she couldn't resist teasing abby when she erupted into her typical outbursts—episodes she jokingly dubbed "hissy fits." just a few weeks ago, she had been assigned to work the counter beside you after amelia went on maternity leave.

"check this one out," the red-head chimes, tilting her phone towards eyes’s view to reveal a piece of media from abby’s instagram. cassidy, as if being a FBI agent was her second job, didn’t break a sweat looking for abby’s entire life online the moment it was plausible.

now, knowing who to call, you glance to see a photo of the blonde with her usual serious expression. the framing itself is taken from an awkward angle. “she’s so stiff, like a damn statue.” she laughs.

you let your hands fall once successfully securing your hair in a bun, a chuckle escaping your lips. "not a bad-looking statue, though," you remark casually, shrugging your shoulders. a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you added, "maybe she should start a new career as a model. the 'stiff but stunning' look could be all the rage."

cassidy quirks an eyebrow your way, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she teases you, “oh, am i sensing something here?”

you respond with a scoff, hastily denying any such notion with playful push. “god, no!” you exclaim, feigning offense, your laugh mingling with her own.

amidst the laughter, your moment is abruptly interrupted by the overwhelming waft of a potent perfume that assaults your senses. immediately, you recognize the scent and dart your gaze towards its source—abby’s new assistant. wearing a top brazenly too small for her ample cleavage with an extravagant makeup job tailored for a circus clown, it's painfully obvious whom this performance is intended to impress.

fucking ‘asshole’ anderson. It’s a pity really; she’s a decent-looking girl, but a relentless ass-kisser. everyone in the hospital picked up on her antics pretty quickly, constantly trying to win abby’s favor. rumors speculated, suggesting they did more than just work together, but hey, they’re just rumors.

“you should be working, abby wouldn’t like this.” her grating voice rings out, dripping with unwarranted confidence.

“we’re on our break, alexa.” you reply coolly, not bothering to mask the distaste in your expression.

she theatrically glances at her watch and purses her lips, stating smugly, “not anymore.” her gaze flicks to you, a smirk playing at her lips. it takes every ounce of restraint you possess not to grab her by the hair and slam her head against the wall. instead, you listen as she adds, "i should be informing abby about this,” she emphasizes with her hand, going in a circular motion towards you and cassidy before finishing. “but she's requested your presence in her office right now."

you stare at her, bewilderment etched across your face. abby? needing you in her presence? the confusion can’t linger long when she impatiently snaps her fingers.

"chop, chop, she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” she prompts, her tone dripping with condescension.

fucking bitch.

"you said you needed me?" you inquired, poking your head through the door’s open crack.

"yes, shut the door and take a seat." she affirms, witnessing firsthand the intentitive— almost obsessive behavior driven by a need to be perfection itself. her eyes don’t move from the paperwork at hand, but there’s no need for her body language and demeanor is a revelation on its own.

her stoicism matched almost flawlessly, as if they had been meticulously practiced in the mirror—akin to a morning ritual, like a cup of coffee. and her physique? it’s a memoir to resolution, sculpted from the divine hands of a deity, making you wonder: how could a person be so flawless? is she a forsaken angel, once god's favorite, now cast away from grace?

her voice, now with a hint of a crisp clear edge, breaks the silence, stating firmly, "i need to discuss something with you." her arms are now visible, resting on top of her desk, hands neatly folded together, an action that seizes your attention like a magnet. was this beautiful “angel” of a woman merely toying with you, masquerading as a jester with deceptive tricks?

nervously, you lick your dry lips and nod, responding with a strained voice, "yeah?" she picked up on that.

her eyes narrow with curiosity, and she leans forward, her voice laced with suspicion as she queries, “tell me,” she begins, letting the question linger in the air for a moment. “why do you still waste time with cassidy?” her tone carries a note of mild disdain. “she’s a bit.. odd, don’t you think?”

within the span of a moment, a wave of frustration surges through you, compelling you to argue your case. however, you find yourself inexplicably entranced by her features, unable to break the spell that has woven its way around your thoughts. nodding without conscious thought, your gaze is transfixed on the magnificence standing before you— the artistry of her face and form.

the sun's warm glow streams through the windows just behind her, casting a radiant light upon her as if nature itself were emphasizing its own masterpiece. every detail of her appearance is meticulously crafted, like a tempting apple dangling in front of the unsuspecting. a loose strand of hair falls gracefully in front of her face, accentuating the fine features of her facial structure. the angular lines of her nose seem to carry the weight of her sharp-edged spectacles, and her eyes, often lacking warmth, rarely seek solace in anything but themselves.

the sinew, a testament to the muscularity of her arms, even beneath the loose confines of her doctor’s coat, as if they were destined to stand out, to be admired. the way she held her pen moments ago makes it seem almost insignificant in comparison to her thick fingers, wrapped around it like a vice. her penmanship is impeccable, smooth and faultless, as if her hand is a perfectly calibrated machine.

god’s greatest gifts bestowed on its worst creation alive.

"are you even listening to me, right now?" she questions, her jaw setting tight.

startled, you snapped out of your reverie, blinking to moisten the dry eyes that had forgotten to blink in their fixated state, you confirm. “yes.” no.

“i asked you a question.” she snaps, her voice stern.

“what was the question?” you stammer, feeling flustered under her intense scrutiny.

“why—forget it.” a sudden shift in her expression indicates a change of mind. it seems the words didn’t sound as smart when she voiced them aloud.

“what?” you stutter, leaning forward in your chair. “what were you going to say?”

“i said, nevermind,” she replies, her tone firm and dismissive. “you’re free to go.” she averts her gaze from you, redirecting it towards her paperwork, as if you had suddenly become unimportant and unworthy of her attention.

you’re left dumbfounded, what was that about?

FEW HOURS LATER

your bedroom - 3:20 am on a thursday morning

your sharp gasp and the tension in your body were palpable, confined to the bed where your body lay cushioned. a hand ran through your hair before tugging it tightly, adding to the pleasure that coursed through you. the serene hum of your vibrator, nestled between your legs, was a poor substitute for the fantasies that danced through your mind.

your guilty pleasures, your secret desire.

“oh, abby!” you moaned, the broken syllable laced with longing. images of her flashed through your mind, your body yearning for the warmth of her fingers instead of the cold, mechanical pleasure your toy provided. the thought of being stretched by her strong, capable hands was all it took to push you over the edge.

a wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body shaking as you orgasmed, the fantasy of abby's touch more potent than the reality. the intensity of your pleasure left you breathless, even as you knew it was only a fleeting escape from reality.

as your mind snaps back, an overwhelming rush of realization washes over you. you toss aside the vibrator, sitting up with a sigh. you can’t help, but feel shame towards yourself. the thought of your boss—the one person who makes your life a living hell—occupies your thoughts. how could you even entertain the thought of her?

a fallen angel, huh?

SAID “FALLEN ANGEL”

abby anderson

she was fucking on one today, and in return she thought you were too. her mind was consumed by you. even the morning coffee, always a comfort, tasted bitter and cold. she didn't even acknowledge the usual flirtatious advances from her assistant when she greeted her this morning. instead, she simply asked for her requested files and retreated to the sanctuary of her office, locking the door behind her.

it was always you, stirring up trouble by merely existing near her. cassidy mcclair, that braid-wearing copycat bitch, had you wrapped around her serpentine fingers. and you? you should have known better than to waste your precious time with people like that, but there you were. in fact, compared to these idiots you had to call coworkers, you were leaps and bounds above them.

you were just making a mistake, a mistake that was costing her sleep— more than she already doesn’t get.

she silently fumed as she stood in front of her office door for her daily check on what everyone was doing, over the years making mental lists of the flaws of each employee. amelia, didn’t know if she was bleating or laughing, and those killer front teeth— literally. one glance and someone’s head would be off. then there was samson, who seemed to do nothing, but shove burgers down his gargantuan throat. she was convinced he never even bothered to chew.

it was laughable, and she could go on and on about the flaws each one of her employees had. but you, well, not a single flaw could be attributed to you. not one mentioned on any list of the many she had. in essence, you were the embodiment of a boss's dream employee—quick on the case, a good sport, but until now, there was one flaw that had eluded you: the habits of hanging around the wrong people.

granted, it's not like cassidy was forcing drugs down your throat, but it was clear she was trouble. competition, that had to be eliminated. but one might wonder, why? why did abby have such a deep-seated grudge against you? why did she feel this burning urge to take you down? just like a pack of wolves, having her sights set on the weak link, ready to pounce.

deep down, abby didn't fully understand her intense feelings towards you. each attempt to articulate her emotions only led to frustration as they were often misinterpreted in the delivery. you made her nervous in a way that was both understandable and utterly perplexing, leaving her with feelings uncharted. in a desperate attempt to maintain control, she decided the best course of action was to keep her fondness for you hidden. surely, as long as you remained oblivious to her affections, there would be no complications, right?

she’d pledge that promise to the death, do everything to her power to keep it this way. there would be no vulnerability, no broken hearts to be on the mend, even if meant being cruel. but when cassidy came and first laid her eyes on you. oh, how she wanted to claw her eyes out just for even staring at you for a millisecond long.

it infuriated her to see how easily cassidy could evoke laughter and smiles from you, things that abby denied herself. many long, self deprecating nights filled with overflowing ashtrays of spent cigarettes and a collection of empty whiskey glasses were becoming too often to be called a casual drinker.

the day she requested your presence in her office, and sat across from her as she filled out the paperwork to transfer cassidy to another floor was a moment of triumph. however, her satisfaction evaporated rather quickly—leaving her dry to the bone. throughout the entire conversation, you appeared to be dazed, barely registering a word she spoke. had she been too late? were you already so smitten with cassidy that you couldn't even comprehend a word coming out of her mouth?

was it already too late?

after you had left her office, abby found herself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. alone with her musings, her mind raced, and suddenly, all her thoughts aligned. if the two of you were indeed in a relationship, as it seemed so obvious, then separating the two of you would create an irreversible ripple effect. like two peas in a pod, together you were a force to be reckoned with, but tearing one away and crushing it would change everything.

if cassidy wanted to stoop low, she could go lower.

ANDERSON’S ESTATE

4:54 am on a sunday morning

due to the convoluted approval process, the transfer paperwork would likely take weeks, if not months, to be approved. there was no way abby could allow that to happen. by the time the transfer was accepted, you'd be off in dubai for a honeymoon with your apparent soulmate, sipping margaritas without a care in the world. no, she had to find a way to expedite the process, and it had to be done by the end of this overcoming week.

so she found herself in her office, nursing a few glasses of whiskey and indulging in chain-smoking cigarettes, a habit she could never partake in one without the other. surrounded by the solace of her private liar, the alcohol and nicotine fueled her thoughts, as she brainstormed list after list of ways to get rid of cassidy. patient abandonment was one option, but it ran the risk of tarnishing her own reputation as well. however, she was past the point of caring about the repercussions of her actions. all that mattered was taking down cassidy, one way or another.

feeling a mixture of an uncomfortable unfulfillment and disoriented, she runs a hand through her tousled mane. with a groan, rubs her eyes and gets up, smoldering the glowing embers of the cigarette in the overflowing ashtray before trudging off to bed like a pouting toddler.

In the comforts of her bed, shafts of dawn gently seeped through the curtains, with her loyal puppy, alice, sleeping at her feet, whining occasionally as she glanced up at her owner. abby couldn't help but wonder if the dog was attempting to communicate with her, as if offering a cautionary message. was it the effects of the whiskey and cigarettes playing tricks on her mind, or was her canine companion genuinely trying to warn her of impending consequences? these thoughts swirled through her muddled mind, yet the idea of it actually seemed far-fetched.

it’s a thing to think of, and another to do.

ONE DAY, MONDAY

cheshire cat grin

“and i want you all to be more aware— if you haven’t been already.” the firm voice snapped abby out of her reverie.

a weary sigh emits as her body slumps into a loose crescent shape, the strain of sitting in an ass-numbing chair for hours was finally taking its toll, and listening to her supervisor drone on and on about the same old report on employee performance wasn’t helping either. however, one particular statement caught her undivided attention.

the rise in unauthorized narcotics.

the report revealed that there had been a 3% increase in the number of supplies used compared to the usual amount. this increase caused considerable stress for the superior, who advised—no, demanded that all doctors on each floor find the culprit.

with mounting irritation from the current predicament, the overseer noticed abby’s expression and prompted her with a question. “is there anything you’d like to say, abigail?” she inquired, presumptuously.

as the superior fixed a firm gaze on her, abby’s initial instinct was to reply with a simple “no.” but then a new thought took hold. she sat up straighter, straightening her normally confident demeanor even further, and responded with a question of her own. “hypothetically speaking, if i do uncover the perpetrator, what measures will be taken in response?”

the woman’s scoff conveyed a dismissive tone, as if the answer was lingering in the air. she smugly responded, “well, hypothetically, they’d be fired on the spot, and all hospitals in the county would be notified never to employ them again.” there was a brief pause before continuing with that same overly confident demeanor, “so, they’d have to move just to find another job.” eyeing abby as if searching for even the slightest hint of nervousness.

under normal circumstances, abby’s temper would have flared at her superior’s condescending tone, but in that moment, everything was perfect. a polite smile abby offered held more than the naked eye could see.

the jigsaw pieces were falling into place.

TWO DAYS LATER, WEDNESDAY

surprise!

the days melded together, each one weighed down by a stack of endless papers and an incessant, desperate assistant who was over her shoulder, relentlessly nagged for her attention. in those moments of exhaustion, she started regretting ever giving them the slightest bit of her attention in the first place, justifying the brief lapses in her focus as mere 'moments of weakness'.

in obeying her supervisor's advice, she had been carefully observing everyone, with a heightened level of scrutiny directed towards cassidy, intentionally growing increasingly “suspicious” of her. with a fierce determination, she wrestled hard to suppress the many outbursts that threatened to spill over simply due to the sight of you and cassidy together.

even as a child, abby had a knack for fixating on unimportant details, down to the intricate nuances of color. her attention to detail had grown into a deep obsession, enabling her to familiarize herself with an object or being within days. with cassidy, she had approached it like disassembling a game of jenga, meticulously analyzing her every action, carefully calculating her plans. all she needed now was the opportune moment to set everything into motion.

just as she was about to execute her plan, a sudden, unexpected event occurred, as if on cue.

with newfound courage bolstered by a glass of whiskey and a cigarette, she rose from her chair, only for the shrill ring of her phone to pierce the tense atmosphere, and she glanced down to see a rarely-seen name on the screen— her grandmother, susana. an unyielding, meticulous woman, had been a source of inspiration for abby as she grew up, shaping her into the determined individual she had become.

susana, was a renowned fashion designer based in paris, a demanding professional life that had left her with limited time to spend with her beloved granddaughter. with a huff, sitting back in her office chair, abby picked up her phone and pressed it against her ear, preparing for their conversation.

"oh, my darling abigail!" the sound of her grandmother's sweet, melodic voice filled abby's ear.

a subtle wince crossed her face, and a forced smile tugs at her lips, almost as if her grandmother could see her through the phone.

"hi.” she responded, prompting her grandmother to lightheartedly tease, "oh, darling, why so timid?" her chuckle echoed over the line.

abby responded with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "sorry, gam-gam, I'm just a bit stressed." she confessed.

her grandmother replied with a lighthearted hum. “well, in that case, meet me at the cafe down the street for a little whine down.” and with a click, the line went dead, leaving abby scarcely a moment to protest.

with a heavy sigh, she tossed her phone aside, muttering, "damnit." frustrated, she ran a hand over her face.

in the reserved confines of their booth, her grandmother inquired with a casual tone, "so, did you receive my letter?" she pierced a strawberry with her fork, taking a bite.

abby responded with a nod, her thoughts momentarily astray to the brief moment earlier when she'd seized the opportunity to execute her plan on cassidy's unattended bag during your lunchtime in the break room. she knew such an opportunity might not present itself again anytime soon, as cassidy was set to be away until friday.

“and the book?”

abby paused, strawberry mid-air on her fork, perplexed by her grandmother's question. "what book?" she questioned with a full mouth, confusion lacing her voice.

her grandmother sighs, explaining, "the book didn't arrive?" she grumbled about the subpar mailing service. "doesn’t matter," she continued, "we can just head over to the bookstore after and replace it." her interest piqued as her grandmother added that it was another mythology book, a favorite topic of hers.

abby's eyes sparkled with excitement. "awe, sweet! i’ve been meaning to go." she responded enthusiastically.

the older woman chuckled, observing, "old habits die hard, I suppose." she then posed a question that seemed to ignite her interest even more. "tell me, have you managed to swoon any girls with your extensive library of knowledge?" her grandmother's smile grew wider at this question, her genuine wish for abby's happiness evident. how could abby possibly ruin her grandmother's happiness?

abby wasn't one to lie, but she felt compelled to do so, especially since the truth was more difficult to share. a gentle smile tugged at her lips, and a blush appeared on her face as she played with the blueberry on her plate. though it was a lie, it was an effortless one. "well, there's this one girl at work," she began, her voice growing more softer. "she’s incredibly sweet, and I think she likes me." the rosiness in her cheeks deepened, adding a touch of authenticity to her fib.

“awe, sugarplum, who is it?”

“her name is y/n.”

ANOTHER TWO DAYS LATER, FRIDAY

the final act

after two days of being completely immersed in the book, abby managed to force herself back to reality. cassidy had reappeared, prompting abby to resume her daily observations. she diligently watched over you and cassidy, particularly monitoring the red-head’s interactions.

she had arranged a private conversation with the supervisor, raising concerns about “suspicious” behavior involving cassidy. the supervisor guaranteed action before six pm that afternoon. all she needed to do now was secure her bag alone before then. abby set an alarm on her watch, stashed the narcotics in her pocket, and exited her office, determined to carry out her plan.

she closed her door and was immediately greeted by the familiar sounds of chatter and movement, the distinctive scent of the hospital filling her nose. as she inhaled, it was as if she was breathing in the purest air. but then, the explosive sound of a voice abruptly shattered her moment of comfort. she jumped in surprise and turned her head to see a nurse.

"sorry, doctor," she apologized, her smile tinged with nervousness. "i—uhm, have documents for you to sign for a discharge." she extended the clipboard, waiting for abby to take it.

still feeling discombobulated, abby nodded stiffly as she accepted the clipboard and signed it. “are… are you okay?” the nurse's question caught her off guard, prompting her to look up. "yes—yes, I'm fine.” she replied, her voice somewhat strained.

saying a brief goodbye, she walks down the hallway, and sees cassidy getting dressed in the staff room. abby smirks, and walks inside just as she’s gonna leave. the initial door opening scares, making her jump back, and she sees it’s abby, she greets her with a smile, and quick hi, trying to exit. but abby isnt gonna let her leave so quick.

abby says a brief farewell and proceeds down the hallway, catching sight of cassidy dressing up in the staff room. she stops with a grinch-like grin saunters into the room just as cassidy is about to exit. the sudden door opening startles cassidy, making her jump back. she quickly greets abby with a smile and a casual "hi," attempting to leave. however, abby is determined not to let her go that easily.

"hey, wait." abby halts cassidy in her tracks with a firm arm grab, causing her to stop.

cassidy looks up, bewildered, and clutches her bag close to her shoulder, waiting to see what this was about. abby’s eyebrows furrowed, it’s been truly a long time since she stood by her self-proclaimed enemy. she didn't seem to have changed much— not that she cared to notice, except for the new pin on her shirt— a small pride flag, cute.

abby scoffs, chuckling which prompts cassidy to raise an eyebrow. “what’s so funny?”

in response, she shakes her head dismissively, replying with a hint of mischief, "nothing, just a joke i remembered." adding slyly with a cunning smile, she continues, "how do you like working here?"

cassidy swallows, her nerves becoming visibly apparent as she nods in agreement. "it’s good," she reiterates, adding, "yeah, i love working with the children."

abby hums in response, laughing. "well, don't let me stop you." she promptly opens the door for cassidy, eliciting a smile from her in response, and as she begins to pass through, the taller blonde adds. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

as she watched cassidy leave with her bag in hand, abby's emotions were divided. she felt a sense of sheer satisfaction, empowerment, her lips twisting into a muscle straining grin as she watched the bag recede into the distance, carrying her ticket goodbye. and she didn’t feel an ounce of regret because she did warn her. to enjoy it all, her time at the hospital to its fullest, and she meant it. true to her nature, abby prided herself on consistency, even more so in her efficiency, like a stealthy ninja.

in and out, no flaws, no witnesses.

no window for the light to shine through.

THE LIGHT

cascading over your form was from the now straining lamp above. your head ached, overwhelmed by the events of the day. but one interaction stood out as particularly odd— an event you didn't take part in, rather witness instead.

it seemed under every blue moon that cassidy and abby would interact, despite working on the same floor. there were no crossovers, so when a hand broke that line. there was something unsettling about the whole interaction, especially the invader's body language. her movements were mechanical, unnatural even, making it all hard to ignore.

a chill runs down your spine as you consider the implications. you know what you witnessed, but it feels almost unbelievable. just as with notorious serial killers, you struggle to comprehend the thought processes behind such heinous acts. perhaps this lunatic in particular requires her own account to explain her motives and actions.

you arrived at just the right moment, only a few seconds before their conversation ended. fortunately, you had come in time to witness abby casually slipping something into cassidy's bag while she was turning away. the object had a distinct pill bottle shape, subtle enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but enough to pique your interest.

the rumors of stolen narcotics had been circulating, and a mysterious culprit was being gossiped about behind closed doors. you and cassidy had spent some time discussing the topic, sharing silly theories, though nothing more than just pure hearsay.

your eyebrows furrow in thought, though it wasn't helping. instead, only intensified the now throbbing headache, slowly morphing into a full-blown migraine. with your hands holding your head up, you look down at long forgotten paperwork that was meant to be done from the comforts of your own home, but considering the distressing state you’re in. it was far from comforting now.

with a frustrated sigh, you flick off the lamp and abandon your paperwork, ready to rise from your desk. suddenly, your phone rings, jolting you with a spike in heart rate. you glance down at the caller ID.

you immediately answer the call, only to be met with cassidy's hysterical voice. through her sobs and gasps, she reveals that she was fired due to stealing narcotics. your worst fears were confirmed; it was no longer just a mere theory. you had indeed witnessed abby slipping something that resembled a small pill bottle into cassidy’s bag.

as you try to console your friend, a whirlwind of emotions begins to roil within you. some of that emotion directed towards yourself, but strongly towards abby. it was true, you saw it with your very own eyes, and yet chose to wait. you hated the fact that it took you so long to come to your senses, and a wave of guilt consumes you for not marching straight to the supervisor moments after witnessing it.

even if it was too late for your friend, it wasn’t for abby.

the lobby, now shrouded in dimmed lighting with very few sources of illumination, seemed like something straight out of a horror movie. paying no mind to the eerie ambiance, you quickly make your way towards abby’s office door, knowing she typically uses this time to prepare the employee’s schedules. the reasoning behind why she does it in her office is unknown, but frankly, not your biggest concern.

your knuckles collide forcefully against the wood, channeling the full extent of your anger’s strength. the door swings open, revealing a slightly taken aback abby. she utters, “what—what are you doing here?” her tone seems somewhat off.

you don’t waste any time, no words, and cut straight to the chase. “what did you do to cassidy?”

she raises an eyebrow in confusion, responding, “what are you talking about? are you on something, y/n?”

without hesitating, you push past her into her office. turning your head at neck breaking speed to set your hardened gaze onto hers. your voice takes on a more firm tone: “am i? are you?!”

you repeat your question with unwavering determination. “what did you do to cassidy?”

with a scoff, she crosses her arms, feigning innocence. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she denies.

“oh, don’t play dumb,” you retort, your gaze unwavering. “you know exactly what i’m talking about! tell me, what was it that you threw into her bag?”

she nervously swallows, her composure faltering for just a moment before she regains control. this reaction was all you needed to confirm your suspicions.

"that’s confidential.” she repeats assertively, making her way behind her desk.

"confidential, my ass!" you yell in response. "i know damn well what i saw!"

she stops in her tracks and turns her head to face you, a look of indignation on her face. “what did you just say to me?”

ignoring her interruption, you push on, demanding answers. “what did you do to her? what did you say?!” your fist clenched tightly.

for the first time, she drops her facade, maintaining eye contact without hesitation, as she admits. “i gave her a little parting gift.”

the intensity in her eyes makes your blood run cold, trying to gather a sense of what her cryptic response implies. you stammer. “what—what does that even mean?”

she suddenly realizes the gravity of her confession—how she inadvertently revealed her actions, but anger clouds her morality. "just drop it.” she grits out through clenched teeth, patience wearing thin.

the fire in your eyes flares up, brimming with anger and defiance that refuses to let you back down. "no!" you firmly retort. "you’re going to tell me!" frustration seeps through your voice as your patience wanes. you’re tired of her smug superiority, the audacity to act as if she had everyone under her command.

her lips curl into a smirk, her voice oozing with sarcastic scorn. “oh, i’m gonna tell you?” she taunts, scoffing. “tell you what? about your little friend?” her tone carries undertones of something against your mere friendship with cassidy.

the mention of something more regarding your friend sends a pang of defensiveness coursing through you.

"what?" you breathe out, taken aback. "what does that even mean, huh?"

she takes a step forward, each breath heavy and labored. her voice betrays her impatient nature, a predator preparing to pounce. “oh, you know what that means,” she retorts, scoffing internally at how dull you’re being to an obvious situation. despite the tension in the room reaching a high, it’s abby’s intensity that seizes the moment. you half expected to see her licking her lips with anticipated hunger, like a ravenous beast.

it sends a rush of conflicting emotions coursing through you—an alluring mixture of curiosity and trepidation. the encounter itself feels like a high-stakes game of chess where you struggle to predict your opponent's next move. as you step back, your confidence falters, and your voice softens into a small whimper.

“i don’t...”

abby catches onto this, pouncing on it like a hungry lion sensing weakness, further igniting her motives.

you gasp as your back meets the cool, solid wood behind you. in an instinctive movement, your eyes flick briefly behind you before darting back forward. only to find abby’s overbearing presence suffocating your personal space.

"oh, i think you do." she rasps, tilting her head to the side, a chuckle escaping her lips. her faltering gaze lingering to your lips for a fleeting moment before pulling away. her tone seethes with anger, words biting as she scoffs.

“you think you’re so damn slick, huh?” she paces back and forth, a fierce intensity in her stride, causing you to wince in response.

“you act like i wouldn’t catch on to your little games, as if it wasn’t painfully transparent to everyone around you!” her frustration builds, and she raises her arms, unleashing a frustrated sigh before bringing them down forcefully to slap her thighs. "as if i wouldn’t notice!”

you couldn't understand where this anger was coming from. sure, she had always been an asshole, but lately, her outbursts and irritability have seemed to reach a new assholery. and it seemed to have started around the same time you had become friends with cassidy. It was almost as if your newfound friendship had awakened something within her, something darker and more volatile. perhaps jealousy?

abby’s anger blazes brightly in her eyes, her words sharp. "god, you’re infuriating," she says, her voice laced with hostility. "like some fucking prodigy, you think you know everything, don’t you?!" she emphasizes with lurching her body forward, her hands slamming down on the desk either side of you, effectively trapping you in place.

your breath hitches as she draws nearer, her proximity sending an intoxicating wave throughout your body. the intensity of her anger is palpable, every labored breath brushing against your skin like a gentle caress. her lips are tantalizingly close to yours, separated by an annoying invisible barrier that could be shattered at any moment if she so desired. just one push.

"fuck you, abby!" you hiss, your voice faltering for a moment before hardening. "you always had a goddamn bone to pick with me, you piece of shit!" your words linger in the air, carrying years of built-up resentment directed at abby. but the shock of her unexpected confession wipes away your outrage, replacing it with astonishment.

"because i love you!" she yells, her voice ringing out louder than intended. her revelation hangs in the air, rendering you speechless. as those words sink in, your breath catches in your throat. "what?" you manage to croak out, hardly believing what you've just heard.

you observed a flicker of vulnerability in her expression that's quickly replaced by a hardened composure. there was no turning back, the cat was out of the bag, and so she only pressed forward with determination.

her voice descending to a low, sultry tone, she says "you think watching what's mine prancing around like a slut at her own workplace doesn't make me livid?" each word drips with possessive anger and suppressed desire.

your voice comes out smaller and fragile than anticipated as you muster the words, "i’m… i’m not yours." you struggle to meet abby's intense gaze, your body tensing subconsciously as you push yourself against her desk, attempting to create some space between the two of you. the air is thick with tension, the room practically vibrating with the weight of abby’s confession and your denial. you felt trapped, your body practically molding into the desk behind you.

"do you believe that?" she inquires, raising a brow in challenge. she lifts a thumb to slide across your bottom lip, her touch firm yet almost teasing. she pauses for a moment before letting out a gravelly chuckle, further probing into the tension. “i don’t.” she admits with a light shrug. her movements felt taunting, yet calculated as if she’s trying to catch you in a lie, and to fess up.

abby was frustrated, bordering on infuriated, trying to make sense of the situation. her mind was a tangle of emotions, and she felt like she was grasping at straws, trying to connect the pieces in her head. she had the mental board laid out in her mind, each string connecting to a different thought, all pointing to one central question: you and cassidy, and the enigma of your poorly hidden relationship. this uncertainty fueled her anger, and you weren’t making it any better. she wanted to do something— anything— to show you that you weren't just anyone's; you were hers.

"what about alexa, huh?" you ask, gaining a peak of confidence, your words snapping her attention back.

“what about her?” she questions truthfully, amused by your presumed jealousy. “you jealous?"

caught off guard and exposed, you feel the equilibrium shift, upending the chess pieces in your mind. "i’m not jealous," you insist, realizing the power her words hold. it’s as if she has cornered you in this game, check. mate.

“oh, sure you aren’t." abby steps closer, her body pressing against yours, trapping you between her and the desk. her words take on a dual edge of ire and yearning as she smirks. "i should’ve known with the way you’ve been acting, you’re practically begging me to put you in your place.” she murmurs, chuckling gravely. "to fuck you until you can only say yes, doctor anderson." she feigns a high pitch moany tone, a lewd and terrible, yet obvious admit of sounding like you as she says “yes, doctor anderson.”

she laughs before humming, seeming to enjoy that fantasy as she lets herself become lost in the idea for a moment before continuing.

abby’s features lean in closer, the heat from her breath caressing the apple of your cheek as she murmurs against your ear, “tell me, do you let cassidy make you her personal pocket pussy?” her words send a shiver down your spine as her hand moves to caress your cheek, pausing to let you feel the weight of her question in the air before inquiring further, “to bend you over anywhere, anytime, and you’ll just take it like a good girl?” her words laced with a lewdness that sends a thrill through your body, despite the fact that you know you should reject the notion. the question itself was filthy, taboo, and utterly intoxicating. but you couldn’t deny the existence of being drawn to it, deep down knowing more than ever if you ever were to think of that fantasy, you’d want it to be her, not cassidy.

“no, no, it’s not like that.” you attempt to defend yourself, trying to find the right words, but abby interjects before you can say anything else. she scoffs at your attempted denial, her grip on you tightening, causing you to wince. her voice lowers into a dark laugh, her disbelief evident. "oh really? you really expect me to believe that bullshit?"

her name escapes your lips in a gasp, but abby cuts you off yet again, her eyes darkening as she speaks.

"lemme tell you what it's like," she begins, her tone husky. “i think you'd like it. hell, you pray that it does happen because you're nothing but just a pathetic girl who wants some attention. is that what you want? attention?" abby inquires, licking her teeth in an almost predatory manner. your heart races in your chest as her words cut through you.

the tension in the room is palpable, thick with unexpressed desire and emotion. you find yourself unable to hold back any longer, your voice quivering as you voice your deep-seated need. “i want your attention," you confess, your words almost inaudible, they're so faint.

even if faint, she heard all of it, dissected each syllable. it’s all she ever wanted, no, needed to hear from you. “yeah?” her voice falters into a soft whimper, tilting her head to the side and grabbing your cheeks with her large hands, only now focusing on your lips. “i’ll give you all my attention.” she promises, swiftly pulling your face, smashing yours onto hers.

your body trembled from the conflicting sensations, a clash of cold and hot, a maelstrom of warring emotions. years without her touch had left you craving her embrace, and her lips on yours sent heat coursing through your veins. though the kiss stood unspoken, there was no need for actions that spoke louder. both hatred and desire intertwined, two sides of the same coin, fueling this volatile gesture. your hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour, as hers did the same, desperately pulling you closer, kneading your flesh like clay. your hands finally found a resting place on her shoulders, gripping her like a lifeline in the storm of sensations swirling around you.

your movements, your gasps and sighs, fueled the fire within abby, and with a determined strength, she hoists you up onto her desk. the sudden change in position elicits gasp from you, pressing your body against hers with an arch, and abby seizes the moment, slipping her tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervent passion. it was a dance both familiar and new, a moment of fiery connection that consumed you both.

her breath ragged, lips tingling from the passion of the kiss as stares down at you, her eyes dark and filled with hunger as she murmurs her confession. "i've always dreamt of this… having you," her fingers roaming over your body slowly as she says this, relishing in the way you react to her touch. she presses her forehead shading yours, her dilated eyes reflecting the depth of her desire. her cold thumbs find their way underneath your clothes, tracing slow circles, sending a shiver through your body. "having this feeling of your skin under my fingertips."

your voice quivered as you call her name, and for a moment you think your plea to have her lips on yours again are answered, but instead, she finds her new focus, your neck. her lips fall, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites. the sound of your whimpers only spurred her on, her hands gripping your hips possessively as she continued to mark your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys.

abby was in her element now, and your desperate tone only fed her desire. she wanted more, to hear you call her name even more. with a smirk, she lifted her head, eyes burning with amusement. "yeah? you like the sound of that, pretty girl?" she muses, her hand suddenly landing a sharp smack on your thigh, making you jump. in response, she chuckled at your reaction, her laugh sent tingles down your spine, a mixture of amusement and desire. her grip on your thighs tightened, pushing them higher up, and drinking up the sight of you, spread before her with your feet on the desk sent abby's desire spiraling out of control. she couldn't help but lick her lips, taking in the full view of your flushed skin and parted legs. you couldn't hold back a squirm, feeling so exposed— though you weren’t — under her intense gaze.

"i love seeing you like this," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. she steps towards you again, nestling herself in the newfound space. her lips return to your neck, greeting the previous bruises plastered on your neck with soft licks and kisses. "so desperate and needy."

her hands leave your thighs as she lifts herself up to meet your gaze, taking in your already disheveled state. with a hum of satisfaction, she asks, "who gets you like this?"

you manage to respond with a barely audible, "you, abby." she hums at your whimperish respond, a smirk crossing her lips at the confirmation, "yes, not that bitch, cassidy. me. and only me, right, baby?" she gives a slight nod, as if she’s responding for you.

the blonde brings her hand up to your lips, watching as you open your mouth to invite her thumb, which she eagerly accepts.

she let out a low, guttural groan as you suck and lick her pad of her thumb, enjoying the sensations that your mouth causes. she couldn't resist the urge to voice her thoughts, her words thick with possession and desire.

"hm, such a dirty girl." she paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, before amending her statement with a husky tone, "my dirty girl."

you release her thumb with a pop, humming a tone of satisfaction, and licking your lips to savor the lingering taste of her. a chuckle escapes abby's lips as she watches you, her eyes roaming your body yet again. the desire to rip your clothes off and shut you up has been building since the moment you walked into her office, "take this off, baby. you’re killing me with not showing me what's mine," she growls, her words tinged with need and possess. "need to see it, feel it. need." she mumbled against your skin, completely submitted to her delusions. you don’t fight this time, barely able to remove each article of clothing with abby eagerly kissing and licking every available inch of skin. but stops at your bikini line, encountering a setback— your underwear — cockblocking her.

her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, looking up at you with an almost comical expression of frustration, and offense. as if being unable to take off your underwear because of her was a you problem. “funny.” she retorts, tone dripping in sarcasm, but nothing on her face shows amusement. “real fucking funny.” she remarks, punctuating her words with a sharp smack to your hip, kneading at the red skin roughly, making you wince. “you fucking tease.” she continues, her voice laced with a mix of desire and irritation.

"i should punish you for that little stunt," her fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, intending to pull them down herself since you’re incompetent to do so. “but, fuck, look at all this.” she relents, sliding them off your legs— and pocketing them for later — to reveal your core, practically weeping for her. “all this f’me?” she pants, eyes flicking up to yours.

a whiny moan of her name slips past your lips, but she shushes you gently, her voice softer now. "i know, baby, i know." she cooed, her large hand running comfortingly up and down your side. as she spreads your quivering legs further, exposing your drenched folds, abby feasts her eyes upon the sight before her. her lips curve upward, "fuck," she breathed, her eyes never leaving your pulsing core. “look at this pretty pussy. this is prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen—this has to be mine.” she leans down, her warm breath ghosting over your clit before she pressing a tender kiss there, savoring your reaction to her smallest touch, and now wondering what other reactions she could get out of you.

you weren't prepared for what came next, not one bit. expecting her to take things slow, you were completely caught off guard as abby gripped your thighs and, in one swift motion, separated your slimy folds, lapping any sweet nectar waiting for her. you tense from sudden sensation, letting out a loud, unapologetic moan as you arch off the desk. your hands instinctively tangle themselves into her steady braid that soon unravels from being used as reins.

encouraged by your fervent response, abby delved deeper, her skilled tongue tracing a path to your engorged nub. enclosing it between her lips, she whispered her praise, "you taste better than i thought." her voice trembled, mingling with your own moans.

as her teeth gently nipped at your sensitive bundle, you cried out, your thighs involuntarily squeezing her shoulders. a wicked smirk graced her lips as she basked in your reaction, taking immense pleasure in your submission.

the unexpected pinch sent jolts of shock through your body, your limbs twitching and writhing in a frenzied dance. in response, abby repositions her left hand on your abdomen, gripping tightly to anchor you in place. each sound that escaped your trembling lips fueled her hunger, her throaty hums resonating against your flesh. with a devilish gleam in her eyes, she teasingly traced circles near your navel with her thumb, heightening your anticipation.

a groan rumbled in her throat when your fingers gripped her hair, the sensation only spurring her on. her mouth fastened more insistently around your swollen nub, sucking harder as you cried out her name. the strain in your voice confirmed her suspicions: you were on the cusp of your release, and she was eager to push you over.

abby's fingers joined the fray, sliding in and out of your slick folds with practiced ease. her relentless assault on your clit continued, her touch sending shivers through your body and causing your breaths to come in ragged gasps. the sight of you, quivering and exposed before her, stoked a fire within her, a determination to send you flying over the edge.

abby derived an addiction from your pleasure. each moment of ecstasy seemed to fuel her further, driving her to amplify the tempo and depth of her ministrations. as the room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh meeting flesh and intertwined heavy breaths, something stirred within abby. something unfamiliar, uncharted. normally, she would exhibit unrivaled confidence during intimate encounters, but with you, it was different—more intense, deeper. a desperate craving to be perfect, to ensure you'd never seek anyone else but her. she’d hate to admit it, but the realization gnaws at her: the longing for you even after this is over.

"who's making you cum tonight?" abby questioned the obvious once more, but her arrogance tone underlined the strong need for reassurance. your moans were her only response, and while she adored the sweet sounds, she craved more. a sudden shift in her fingers’ movements made you yell out, "you, abby," your words punctuated by cries of pleasure.

her fingers, now confined within your tight grip, sensed the growing tension, the impending eruption, the imminent of your orgasm. "uh-huh, come for me," she ordered, "let me hear who’s making a mess of you."

the warnings of your impending release came with fervor, each thrust hastening to the inevitable snap of the tightening band in your abdomen. then when it did, a cry rang out, loud and clear, as her name left your lips in tandem with your essence painting her features. in this haze of euphoria, you suddenly find a sense of clarity, wondering how in all worlds did you end up in this situation, in the arms— or rather the mouth of your boss?

it’s rather short lived, quickly fading into a hazy blur. you threw your head back as her eyes closed, savoring the taste of your ecstasy with a hum, helping you through your orgasm until your body laxs.

withdrawing her fingers, abby admired the sight of your juices clinging to them, a testament to her efforts. a satisfied smile stretches across her face as she reveled in the knowledge that she had brought you to such heights.

she licks them clean, feeling a rush of gratification that only you can provide. releasing her fingers with a soft pop, her lips make way and pave along the curve of your hip, leaving a trail of wet, sticky kisses behind as she moves up to stand before you. “such a good girl..” she mumbled against your skin. you lift yourself up with your elbow, taking a moment to catch your breath, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm that has left you momentarily speechless. you couldn't help, but notice abby’s disheveled appearance as well. untangled, her hair strays from its famed braid, now flowing around her face like a cascade of waves.

but before you could comment on the sight, she claims your lips in a tender, sweet kiss, her hands cupping your face. the connection was brief, and when she pulled away, a grin lit up her features. without another word spoken, she unclothes herself, revealing herself in all her glory. you knew she worked out, but goddamn, did she work out! the determination to achieve the physique showed immensely. in your admiration, you felt the apple of your cheeks warm up, causing you to look away.

"don’t go shy on me, babe," she chided playfully, repositioning your face to meet hers. she seals the deal with another kiss pushing you down gently onto the desk. "lay back f’me, ‘kay?"

with a nod, you comply, watching as the corded muscles in her arms flex as she moves into position, lifting your leg. a grin tugged at the corners of your lips as she placed a tender kiss on your ankle, making her soft chuckle fill the air in return before she securely set your leg on her shoulder.

the moment your wet folds connected, a guttural moan escaped her lips. the sensation was everything she craved, wasting no time in starting a vigorous grinding motion. as she ruts back and forth, she can’t help but mutter curses under her breath, lost in her own pleasure. "fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good." she hisses, throwing her head back. the raw intensity of her emotions written clear as day on her features.

her concentration nearly falters when she glances down, and the sight that met her eyes threatened to make her cum on the spot. the image of your hair spread out across the desk, your bouncing breasts with every upthrust combined with the feeling of your warmth against hers drove her to near insanity.

abby swore she had to be on the edge of a near-death experience, or some type of dejà vu as she gazed upon you in awe, swearing that you resembled a goddess straight out of a mythology book she had once read. though the memory of the goddess’s name was just out of reach, abby couldn't shake the feeling that she had personally seen a painting she once visited come to life in front of her very own eyes.

your hair, freed from its usual up do, was now cascading around your head and spilling off the edge of the desk like an ebony waterfall. your body, unrestrained, was a breathtaking display of femininity. each heaving breath caused your breasts to sway gently, your nipples hardened in anticipation. the way your skin glistened with a thin film of sweat only added to the captivating tableau.

in that moment, abby could almost imagine you as a divine muse from an ancient myth, a vision of beauty and desire. if she didn't snap herself back to reality, the mere sight might have been enough to send her hurtling toward an orgasm. but she had other plans, and she was determined to make them happen.

without warning, abby leaned down, her left hand resting beside your head to brace herself. as her mouth wrapped over one of your taut nipples, her tongue danced over the sensitive bud. simultaneously, her free hand kneaded your other breast, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. your hips bucked involuntarily, meeting her thrusts, and for a moment, it stuttered her pace, a low moan escaping her lips.

"fuck—baby, don't—don't do that," she pleads, filthy groans slipping pass her lips as her hand slides down to your hip, holding you firmly in place as her engorged clit pulsated with building intensity. she was determined to make you cum before she did.

your whispered invocation of her name caused her to glance up at your flushed, disheveled appearance. the sight was a temptation she couldn't resist, and crashed her lips against yours, the feverish kiss mirroring the urgency of your coupling. the closeness and ferocity of both embraces unconsciously synced your movements, hips rocking in unison.

"fuck! abby, i’m gonna cum, please!" your gasps grew heavier and staccato, your forehead pressing against hers as her pace quickened, breaths entwining. normally, abby would step in and reprimand her employees for behaving too freely when seemingly having too much fun. however, in this moment, she actively encourages it, the atmosphere brimming with an intense hunger for it.

"i know, baby, i know." abby's hand found your cheek, stroking it soothingly as if trying to appease your mind to allow what’s inevitable. "cum for me—cum with me," she pants, her pace faltering as she reached her zenith. her arms enveloped you, her hair acting as a curtain around the two of you. guiding you through your release, the slick of your shared pleasure coated your entwined bodies.

once over, abby’s rhythm ceased, and she collapsed on top of you, utterly spent. the weight of the night's passionate encounters bore down, leaving the two of you entwined in the afterglow.

in the act of catching your breaths, it gave abby post-nut clarity. her cheeks reddened, overwhelmed with shame for her past behavior, guilt gnawing at her insides as she realized how much of an ass she had been. it makes her get up, promptly making you sit up, confused.

with a shaky breath, she pushed her hair behind her ear, an expression that was nothing like her usual confident self. "look," she began hesitantly, her voice strained as she struggled to find the right words. unable to meet your gaze, she continued, "i’m sorry for everything. i've been having these feelings, feelings i-i don't even know how to process about you, but i... just wanted to say that i'm sorry for being such an asshole. it was pathetic."

finally, she looked at you, her lips laced in a pout. her confession took you by surprise, leaving you speechless. it was a side of abby you never saw, apologetic.

“asshole is an understatement.” you finally say, laughing softly, an attempt to alleviate the tension in the air, yet it brought no amusement to the receiver. with a quick gulp to clear your throat, you question, “what kind of feelings?” tilting your head to one side.

abby's mouth forms into a tight smile at your lighthearted comment. "they're romantic feelings," she confessed, taking a step forward. she knew the likelihood of your response, but nonetheless continued. "i wasn't lying when i said 'i love you’… but if you don't—" she let out a shaky exhale, the next words stinging. "I'll understand."

unable to suppress an oncoming smile, you take the sight of the usually tough-as-nails abby anderson, now a softie. taking for a moment before responding with a soft voice that leaves abby confused, "you look pretty like this.”

"what?"

"yeah, you should wear your hair down when we go on a date."

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru

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[chunksworld]

Swim

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: #BreedMinju. Thank you to Kaede for beta reading as always.

————————

You never imagined in your wet dreams, in all of the times you masturbated to her, or even that time you drunk texted her a picture of you shirtless after one too many drinks at the bar that the woman you met inside the elevator during your first day at the company some two odd years ago would be in your apartment watching some rom-com from the 90s that you are too inebriated to remember the title of. Your heart is pounding, partly because of the double serving of triple shot espresso you perhaps shouldn’t have drank this morning and partly because she looks devastatingly stunning in that white shirt that completely conceals whatever shorts she maybe wearing underneath which further accentuates those long legs of hers—

“I don’t remember the TV facing this direction, unless there’s something on my face?”

Shit.

Aside from her God-given physical features, it’s the way she can toy with your feelings and flirt with you so effortlessly that always leaves you wanting for more. Every single little interaction with her is an adventure on its own; the way she would wink at you every time you pass by her in the office, the way she would walk up to you to fix your tie while telling you how your perfume “smells like the oceanside on a summer day” —whatever the hell that means— or how she would always give you words of encouragement with that bright smile of hers during stressful days. 

It should mean something, has to mean something. Right? You can’t ask anyone for advice either, not when you’re the only two people born on this side of the century in your department. Your coworkers are either divorced or having a midlife crisis, and quite frankly, you might be having a quarter-life crisis if such a thing exists. You can’t stay professional any longer, and you are more than thankful that you’re not at the workplace right now because the thoughts swimming inside your head are absolutely not safe for work. And it’s all because of this fucking woman that’s laughing as if everything is sunshine and rainbows: Kim Minju. 

It doesn’t help that she’s the prettiest woman you know. even more so than the handful of girls you’ve hooked up with during college. Evidently, you are not the only one that shares that sentiment because you don’t miss the old way some of your older male coworkers would give her a certain, disgusting look that you wish to erase from your memories and you know she deserves better than them. She deserves someone like you, but you don’t exactly know if that feeling is reciprocated. But as to how far you can push your luck, you haven’t found out the answer to that yet—perhaps tonight is the night. 

“Are you still with me? Or did my goddess face lure you in too deep?” 

That now makes the two of you not paying attention to the movie—granted you’ve already seen it at least a dozen times during college when you were a hopeless romantic but who are you to turn down Minju when she specifically requested it? Plus, that’s not your concern at this very moment when she scoots ever so closely to you and the heat her skin radiates is enough to burn you. “Honestly, I don’t blame you if you have a crush on me. I sort of have that effect on guys.” There’s that fucking wink again, and the way she pouts her lips as if she is posing for a selfie. “I admire your resilience though, most guys would have me moaning their names on their bed already by this point.”

“Not funny, Minju.” It really isn’t, not when she’s mere inches away from you and if you were just a bit more drunk now those irresistible lips of hers would be meshed with yours now. You try to look away but you can’t, they captivate you to no end and you don’t even want to look away now—the sheen on those cherry red lips, the way they stand out against her milky white skin, the way she then bites her lower lips as to tempt you even further, the way sweat slowly drips down the side of her face and to her neck and you think they’d look good with your bite marks all over them.

Even if you look down, her succulent thighs and legs are all that will pervade your senses and you won’t be able to stop thinking about how you just want to rip whatever garments she’s wearing underneath and have her spread her legs while you eat her out like she’s your last meal on Earth. “You can’t just keep doing this for years and not expect me to make a move eventually.”

“Then what’s stopping you, hmm?” 

Minju somehow shifts even closer to you, her lips practically brushing against yours, her eyes staring deep into your soul, her hands resting on your thighs. She probes into you even deeper, much deeper than any other time and emergency sirens are popping up in your head. There have been many close encounters like this, way too many for your liking. 

The way she would wear pencil skirts on certain days and make it her mission to bend over in front of you as much as possible to show the unreal curvature of her ass—then proceeding to smirk as if she doesn’t know how much your cock wants to burst through your pants. The way she would purposely bump into you and pretend to fall so you can pull her into an inadvertent hug. 

Or when she would wear those dresses that hug her curves tightly during galas and she would give you a courtesy hug for a second longer than corporate policies would allow. Or when she kissed you during Christmas party last year and claimed that she had to do it because you two were “underneath a mistletoe.” 

It all has to end tonight, because God forbid you have to spend another night alone on your bed making a mess while you shoot ropes after ropes all over yourself thinking about her. It’s exhausting having to play these games with her when you’re 99% sure she is into you and you have to take action now before someone else does.

“Minju, I don’t think you’re ready for what I’m packing down there.” You test the waters even further, carefully studying her facial expressions while trying not to get lost in her eyes. It’s quite a difficult task when the alcohol is hitting you harder by the minute but when a sly grin appears across her face as if to challenge that statement, you know you have her right where you want her.

“Oh trust me, I know what you’re packing down there.” Minju glances downwards at your erection and your sweatpants are doing a poor job with how it’s about to poke through your pants. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be spending my Friday night here when I could be hanging out with Chaewon and Yujin.” It’s getting dangerous now, her hands traveling down your body and cupping your length through two layers of clothing.

And honestly you might as well be naked now with the way your cock reacts to her touch —your tip is leaking heavily and your breath starts to shorten. “So what’s it gonna be? You can’t tell me you have a different plan for how this night is going to end.” You can’t push back any further, you won’t push back. You take the first dip, lips pressed hungrily onto hers and she takes this opportunity to swing her legs over and straddle you on your couch—the movie in the background is long forgotten and all you care about right now is her.

You straighten yourself up and wrap your arms around her waist possessively; two years of pent up sexual frustration finally coming to an end and you make the most of it. Her lips are everything you’ve dreamed of; soft and sweet and succulent and you can’t help but think about how they slot in with yours perfectly as if you were meant to kiss her all this time. Your hands travel to her face to cup her cheeks, pushing her head deeper into yours and you notice her hands encircling around your back. 

You take a break to catch your bearings, staring deep again at her now lust-filled eyes and you get a front row seat to the facial expression you’ve been dying to see for forever now.  She moans into your mouth when one of your hands slides underneath her dress shirt to feel her smooth skin and the ridges of her abs which itself isn’t a surprise—what is surprising is the lack of bra when you travel further upwards and you come into contact with tits that you are sure is perky and round. “What a fucking slut, Minju. No bra?”

Your suspicions are confirmed when you practically rip the buttons off her shirt and throw it somewhere in your living room and your mouth waters at the sight of her breasts, they are definitely not the biggest you’ve seen but the way they sit on her perfectly shaped body with all of her curves and intricacies is more than enough to make up for it. “What’s the use of wearing one when I knew we were gonna end up like this anyways?” But before you could dive down to taste them you find your shirt being removed as well and the hunger in your eyes is mirrored by the way she’s staring down at your own pack of abs. 

“I mean if I had it my way I would’ve told you to be shirtless already with only your boxers on before I came over but you can’t have everything in life right?” She is as handsy as you, those delicate fingers mapping your chest and your stomach with every little touch as if to decipher where her lips would go later. But you absolutely cannot wait any longer, grabbing her hand and placing it on her sides while you devour her nipples. Taking her left breasts between your lips while massaging the right one and the whimper of your name that escapes her lips is downright sinful while you alternate between the two. 

You lick, slurp, and at times even get your teeth involved—just anything that can get her squirming and writhing on your lap is enough to fuel you. Even more so when she pushes your head deeper into her chest and she’s moaning “more please, fuck” in between whimpers.

Minju is one needy girl and that’s one fact that you find out quickly when she starts to grind on your hips and you can feel just how warm and wet her shorts are. You inadvertently bite on her nipples and she screams your name at the sensation. You utter a “sorry” in response but it doesn’t really matter when she gets off of you and you think you’ve absolutely screwed up. Fucking great. She stands up and you are about to give a more sincere and heartfelt apology but those thoughts are quickly washed away when she removes her shorts and then her panties.

“I want to see that cock. Now.”

You don’t waste a single moment before you proceed to do the same thing to your undergarments and the sight of her fully naked in front of you causes you to leak even more precum with your cock freely exposed to the air. Minju looks hot—which in itself might be an understatement with the way she’s fucking you with those wide eyes of hers, the way her nipples are glimmering under the lights of your living room thanks to your saliva, the way her abs contract with every breath she takes, the way those stocky thighs are slick with her essence. Forget those wet dreams because none of them could match witnessing the actual Kim Minju naked in real life in your apartment.

Minju squeals when you drag her back down towards you to make her straddle your lap again. No more games, no more foreplay, you slowly sink her down your cock and drink in her moans when she buries her face in your shoulder. She is suffocatingly tight, extremely wet but tight and you almost spill mere seconds after finally inserting your entire length inside her. You wince slightly as her manicured nails press into your shoulders and eventually your back. “Fucking—shit—If I only knew—” 

Your pace is slow and methodical, even though you want to just pound her into oblivion and have her screaming to the point your neighbors will complain the morning after. She is Minju after all and she deserves that respect, but as to how long you can control yourself you don’t know. For now, you are content to just have her in your arms and revel in this moment that you’d never thought would ever come. Just feeling how your cock molds perfectly inside her and how her small bunny hops gradually increase over time and her face becomes lost in pleasure is more than enough.

Especially when you feel every inch of her goddess-like body pressed against yours when she arches up to you; her thighs bouncing against yours, her abs grinding against yours, and those breasts pressed against your chest. “—so deep, fuck—harder!” It’s about time you take control and you do just that, you plant your feet to the ground and you grab handfuls of her asscheeks with each hand before thrusting up in time with her thrust and Minju’s gone completely delirious now. 

Gone are the coherent sentences as they are now replaced by expletive-filled chants of pleasure. She’s damn near crying on your cock, tears welling up in her eyes due to pleasure and so you pull her face away to get a glimpse of her sweat-misted face and how her eyes are unfocused. You don’t know what came over you but you feel your heart skip a beat seeing such surreal beauty up close and personal so you pull her in for another makeout session, continuing your long and hard thrusts while your tongue ravages her mouth much like your cock does with her pussy.

“Fucking hell, we should’ve done this sooner.” Another kiss on her lips, then another lick of her nipples—make that two licks, no in fact, you devour them once more. It’s becoming clearer that they’re starting to become your favorite part of her body and it’s completely justified. “ I can’t believe I had to jack off to your pictures when you were just one call away.” The woman in question doesn’t respond but she blushes, the raw honesty of your words is enough to reveal that shy and demure side of her again despite the situation you two are currently in. 

Minju just brushes her hair aside in response while looking away, taking the initiative to bounce on your cock and you let her take over once again. “W-Well I’m here now—“ A particularly hard thrust deep into a certain spot inside her has her clenching around your cock much tighter than usual, you take mental note of this “—I hope I’m as good as advertised.” Of course she is and even better than whatever scenario you were cooking up inside your head, but instead of showing it through words you just smile at her and hope that it’s enough to show your admiration and you let your body do the talking.

You’re noticing how tired she’s becoming being on top so you don’t waste any more time and pick up the pace while still letting her guide the way. It’s silence between the two of you aside from the sounds of passionate lovemaking and that is just enough to push you two closer to the edge. You feel her clench tighter around you again and likewise you can feel your balls throbbing in anticipation too. It’s been a stressful week at work and there’s no better place to unload than inside her welcoming pussy. You’re just as close to her as reaching your orgasm and it’s becoming extremely difficult not to do anything but to burst inside hers. 

Forget the lovemaking, you lift her up by her asscheeks and stand up from the couch and you immediately feel her limbs coil around your body as she gasps at the sensation of being fully seated by your cock. You start to thrust up again, this time more relentlessly without the restrictions of the couch and she’s leaking even more now and you can actually feel her juices stream down your cock and you know she’s extremely close. “D-Don’t stop, please. Don’t you ever fucking stop!” She’s bouncing much higher than before, almost completely unsheathing your length before she crashes back down on it again and now she’s actually crying in pleasure. 

“Hnnghhh! Fuck! I can’t, I can’t—” There was certainly no way she was going to last any longer. “—G-Gonna cum on your cock!” And a few more of those wild thrusts is all it takes to set her off, going limp and forcing you to grab hold of her even tighter so she doesn’t slip off—a task given difficult given how much sweat is emanating both of your bodies but you don’t care especially when all of those juices causes you to slip out of her for a minute and you don’t care about the mess you two are making on the floor at this very moment when you’re about to follow her with your own orgasm. 

“Such a fucking good girl for me, Minju.” You slide back inside her, this time it’s easier thanks to the lubrication she provided and you can’t help but grit your teeth and close your eyes. It’s too much, all of this. What transpired tonight and what it means for your future. It’s all too much to handle and you can’t hold it any longer. You’re about to give her the biggest load you’ve ever given anyone.  “You deserve all of this, I’ve wanted you so fucking bad.“ All she can do is nod as she is still sensitive from her own orgasm but with the way she’s wrapping her arms around you tighter she wants it as badly as you do. “Gonna fucking cum inside.”

“Please! I want your hot—hnggh—I want your cum. Please. When a beautiful woman like her gives you such a permission you don’t waste it, you hold her tight as you begin to pump ropes after ropes of cum in her pussy with every deep thrust. You don’t want to stop cumming, can’t stop cumming—your legs going weak and forcing you to sit down on the couch while you continue to unload deep inside Minju. It feels fucking euphoric, feeling your load drip back down to your cock and balls as that seemed to drain the soul out of you. 

You’ve been holding back from the moment you first saw her all those years ago and there’s no better feeling than this, not even a promotion could rival how addicting having sex with her feels and you want more. You want to continue diving into the ocean that is Kim Minju even if it means drowning, nothing else matters but her.

As if to try to coax more cum out of you, Minju continues to grind her hips while kissing you. This time it’s much more slow and gentle while you lay her on the couch and hover on top of her. It’s beautiful how her hair, though disheveled, cascades down her shoulders and fans out on the cushion below. 

Her limbs are still wrapped tight around you, your softening cock starting to harden while you begin to fuck her once more—you’re making a mess of the couch with how you’re fucking your cam back into her but it doesn’t matter when she’s going to be filled again. “You still have enough cum for me? I’m surprised.” 

You place kisses on her neck this time, making sure to leave marks dark enough that no amount of foundation can conceal it once Monday comes around. Surprisingly she doesn’t protest, perhaps she does want everyone to find out about you two. “Guess I didn’t do a good job of draining you, huh?” You respond by fucking her harder into the couch, feeling the furniture creak and move with every thrust and you render her speechless once again. 

Lean down to capture those bouncing tits in your mouth and continue to work her to another orgasm which wasn’t difficult to accomplish considering how sensitive she still is. It didn’t take long to set you off either and you unload whatever remaining load you have, which is still plenty considering you almost passed out with how much you left inside her just ten minutes ago.

She urges you to sit up on the couch again and she gets off of it to kneel down in front of you before then taking your flaccid cock in her mouth to clean you off. The sight is pornographic, the way she shows off your combined juices on her tongue before making a show of swallowing it all. “Hmm, we taste good together. I don’t mind having some more of that.”

Minju gets off her knees to sit down right beside you and the way her naked body glistens under the natural light outside your apartment is an unparalleled sight that has your heart swooning and doing backflips. “Well, I’m free this entire weekend.” And perhaps shooting your shot when all of this has already happened is quite a ridiculous predicament to be in but you don’t want to be selfish after all. Surely a girl like her has plenty of suitors you’re not aware of and you don’t want to tie her down especially when nothing is official yet.

“I guess I could be convinced.”

Those ten seconds of silence felt like an eternity. But it was all worth it the moment she gives you that smile that makes your heart race even faster. And despite kissing her for what seems like a million times already, this one has special weight. As if to tell the world that the most beautiful woman you have ever known and perhaps will ever know is now yours and there’s nothing that could change that. Screw all of those disgusting old men with their mid-life crisis because your quarter-life crisis just ended in the most satisfying way possible.

You’re embarrassed by the way you whine the moment you don’t feel her lips on yours anymore but you are quickly consoled the moment she stands up and turns around to flaunt that perfectly shaped ass of hers. Suddenly, blood rushes to your cock again as if you didn’t cum twice already. 

“Come on, take me to your bedroom.” Minju eyes you like a piece of meat once again when she pulls you up to your feet. 

“There’s one more hole you forgot to fill.”

[fingertipsmp3]

Literally what does this headache want from me. I’ve hydrated, I’ve taken 3 different types of pills, I fell asleep on my couch for 45 minutes… why do I still feel this way

[rcmclachlan]

"Everyone at Harbor was... very concerned."

"Attention, all channels: Please be advised, a team from the coroner's office and biohazard removal specialists have been dispatched to LAFD Station 118 for the removal of human remains."

It takes a second for the words "Station 118" to penetrate the thick atmosphere of concentration and rage that Tommy's been floating on while he tries fruitlessly to sweet talk the Bell 505 into accepting the new safety wires he's been trying to install for the last half hour, but the second they do, he tosses down the needle-nosed pliers in his hand and makes a bee-line for the radio sitting between Dana, Nico, and the unpeeled tangerine Nico's eating like an apple.

"Did they say human remains?" Tommy's already reaching into his pocket for his phone, then curses under his breath when he remembers it's sitting in the cockpit of the Bell. He glances across the hangar and gauges the distance. He can probably get to it in ten seconds if he sprints.

"Shut up," Dana says as she turns the volume dial up.

"Be aware that crowd control has also been sent to clear the area. If you are called to an emergency scene in the general vicinity of Station 118, you are advised to avoid Gale Avenue and the surrounding streets until further notice."

"A kid was probably trick-or-treating and found someone's grandma who'd kicked it like a week ago." Nico takes an unconcerned bite of his tangerine, because there's something severely wrong with him as a person. "It's probably nothing."

"That's not nothing?" Tommy looks at Dana for help, but she just heaves a sigh and gives a long-suffering flick of her fingers in Nico's general direction. Which, honestly? Fair.

"They said the remains were at the 118," she muses, pulling out her phone and scrolling through with her thumb, not a single movement wasted. "No one there ever gave off a serial killer vibe—I'm not counting that little blond shithead from a few years ago—so I'm chalking it up to a good old-fashioned misunderstanding."

Nico coughs around a bite of tangerine, rind and all, and Dana doesn't so much as glance his way while she slams a fist into his back. To the casual observer, it probably looks like they're rehearsing some slapstick routine, but every member of the 217 knows that the second Nico gets his hands on any kind of foodstuff, he's immediately seven or eight seconds away from death.

They've had to perform the Heimlich nine times this week alone, and it's only Thursday. He keeps meaning to ask Howie if it's possible to survive solely on IV fluids, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Nico would just manage to choke himself out with the tubing.

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. "Nico, I'm begging you: chew your food. Or, like, peel the rind off first."

"Every part of the animal, my man," Nico trills cheerfully, wiping his mouth. There are orange bits stuck in his teeth.

Holding up a hand, Dana taps her phone with her thumb, her neon green nail—filed to a point so sharp it might actually violate the contract they all signed about not bringing weapons into the workplace—clacking against the screen. The sound of a calling dialing out filters through the speakers and it only takes two rings before someone picks up.

"You good, Dana?"

"Hey Mohini, I'm fine," Dana says with a small uptick to the corners of her mouth that could be almost be described as kind, and just seeing it makes Tommy's skin crawl a little. He glances at Nico, who has stopped trying to kill himself via citrus fruit and looks every bit as disturbed as Tommy feels. The last time Dana smiled, it was right before she launched herself at the asshole who told them to take their time rescuing his stepkid from the fire that was consuming the cabin his family had rented for the weekend.

They saved the kid, and the guy was too shit-scared of Dana to even consider suing her or the department for his broken jaw. He was also dealing with a sudden divorce.

The ex-stepkid writes to Dana every month. Tommy can't prove it, but he thinks he once saw her throw an envelope with the kid's name and address into the outgoing mail pile, and he's also too shit-scared of Dana to bring it up.

Dana catches his gaze and he mouths, who even are you?

She flips him off, which honestly does wonders to assuage his fears of her being possibly possessed.

"What's up, girl?"

"We heard the APB just now. What's going on with the 118?"

"What isn't going on with the 118?" Mohini laughs a little, crackling over the line. "From what I've heard, Firefighter Buckley bought a mummy for the Trunk or Treat thing they put on every year. A real one."

Startled, Tommy looks at the phone in Dana's hand and asks, very slowly, "He bought a corpse?"

Tommy can feel Dana's pointed stare on the side of his face, mostly because his skin is starting to sear, but Tommy can't do anything but stare at the phone and try to process that one. And he just can't. Every time he tries, the smell of burnt toast gets stronger.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised. We've been overdue for a Buckley-related call. I mean, it's been two months since the last one. Remember the thing with the HVAC unit on Sunset?"

He barely remembers that Buckley-related call, but he does remember the one from three nights ago in great detail, which ended with him rimming Evan until he cried and then fucking his brains out. Apparently Evan forgot to put them back in before he bought a dead body to use as a Halloween decoration.

Blowing out a breath, Tommy turns on his heel, jogs over to the Bell, and grabs his phone from the pilot's seat.

Evan, are you okay? Dispatch said something about an incident at the 118, he texts, deliberately vague. He's been told once or twice that his texting tone can sometimes border on an interrogation, which is bullshit, because texting doesn't have a tone, but he doesn't want to be an asshole when he knows Evan's probably beyond humiliated about this.

Plus, Evan doesn't necessarily know that Tommy knows about the mummy. It'll be much better if he has the opportunity to tell Tommy on his own terms.

<< omw 2 the hospital. im ok!

Or he could just be incredibly Evan about it.

>> What happened?! Do you want me to meet you there? I can leave right now.

<< Awwww <3 Eddie going 2 meet me there. Come by l8r?

>> As soon as my shift ends, I promise. Are you sure you're okay?

<< disloc8ed shoulder

Evan literally had to go to a different keyboard to find the 8. Tommy hates how hard he's falling for this ridiculous person.

>> I'll fly there if I have to. Text or call me anytime, okay?

<< :-) :-) :-)

It's three smiley faces. It's nothing, and yet something inside him eases, turns three times, and curls up with a pleased purr.

Since he left the 118 and decided to finally live the life he'd spent his life refusing to allow himself to have, he's dated four people, Evan included. What he feels when he looks at those smiley faces is more than what he felt about the other three people combined. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. He never put stock in the whole 'there's someone for everyone' thing Sal's wife likes to throw around, but then he threw caution to the wind and kissed a beautiful, babbling man silent, and in the weeks that have followed his life seems so much more than he ever imagined it could be.

He has no idea how any of this is going to shake out, and chances are he's going to screw this up spectacularly, but he taps his finger gently to the middle smiley face and hopes Sal's wife is onto something. Maybe there really could be someone for him. Maybe that someone texts like a twelve-year old.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Tommy sends back a single smiley face and pockets his phone. And then immediately takes it back out and sends like five more, because he's pathetic.

Dana and Nico are right where he left them, and as soon as he gets close, Nico sits up and levels him with an expectant look.

"Are they gonna shitcan him? You know the LAFD will shitcan anyone no matter what the circumstances are," he says gravely.

Primly, Dana touches the points of each of her nails to the pad of her thumb. "Nico, if you didn't get shitcanned for tricking Chief Bailey into shrooming at the Backdraft Ball last year, I think Buckley's in the clear."

"That was a complete misunderstanding," Nico swears for the thousandth time.

Dana gives him a slow blink. "It was not. You pulled a jar of mushrooms out of your jacket and said, 'I'm gonna send Chief Bailey to Jupiter.' I have no idea why you're not in jail."

Smug as anything, Nico preens a little. "Chief B was going through some stuff and we went on a very good trip together."

Tommy and Dana share a dubious glance, because that could mean anything from impromptu therapy to having sex in the bathroom where the two of them were found. And Tommy's not one to judge anyone's sexual proclivities, but Chief Bailey is in his early eighties and has very well-documented hip problems.

"How's the human terrier doing? Did he dig anyone else up?" Dana asks. Her expression gives nothing away, but he knows she's laughing at him deep down in whatever black hole her body uses to siphon off emotion.

"Har har," Tommy deadpans, then pauses. "I actually don't know the answer to that. I'm really hoping it's just the one corpse. He did manage to dislocate his arm, though."

"I bet they're gonna shitcan him," Nico says.

"I bet Donato's gonna kill you in cold blood for eating her tangerine when she gets back," Tommy says brightly.

"Probably. I couldn't help it. Stolen food tastes better; it's a law of nature." Nico makes a thoughtful sound and gets to his feet, stretching languidly. "Since I'm already marked for death, I might as well eat her potato salad while I'm at it."

He and Dana watch him amble away in search of Lucy's motive, and Dana asks, genuinely curious, "You ever wonder if the LAFD will go against the grain and hire someone normal?"

"Only every day of my life," Tommy admits. "Speaking of which, did your friend have anything else to say about Evan's, uh, taste in Halloween decorations?"

She shakes her head. "It's with the police now. You off to see your grave robber?"

Huffing a laugh, he lightly kicks her foot. He doesn't know what it says about him that hearing Evan be referred to as a felon fills him with such fondness, but he decides to shove it out of sight until he can study it in greater detail when he's alone.

"My shift ends in a couple of hours. He can keep himself out of trouble until then." Tommy thinks about it for a second and amends, "Probably."

Two hours should be plenty of time to finish fighting with the safety wires, shower real quick, and then break a handful of traffic laws on his way to First Presbyterian. He can only hope Evan doesn't dislocate his other arm or lock himself in the morgue in the meantime.

"Hey." Dana kicks his foot and he lifts his gaze to hers. She stares at him for a moment and, terrifyingly, her mouth quirks again. "Happiness looks good on you, Kinard."

He ducks his head, smiling helplessly. "It's early days, D."

"So what? Doesn't mean you can't be happy about it." Dana shrugs. "I'm thrilled, frankly. Now we've got someone on the inside who can give us firsthand intel about what the fuck goes on over there."

"I'm not a spy," Tommy says flatly.

Dana nods. "True. But it won't be long before you're an accomplice."

Like it's a foregone conclusion that he's going to throw in with Evan and Evan's family. The hurricane could be written off as an outlier, but Tommy knows the second they come to him again for help—the very instant Evan asks—it's going to be an immediate yes.

"If it comes to that, will you bail me out?" he asks, half-jokingly. He won't do her the disrespect of trying to deny it. She's always had his number.

"Nah." Dana gets to her feet and reaches up to pat him on the arm. "I'll let Donato do the honors."

He'd rather stay in jail.

[nicname]

”Oh if we didn’t have xenogenders/GNC trans people/neopronouns/MOGAI/etc etc etc then transphobes would respect us.” Untrue. Most transphobes are so insanely vitriolic that you could be the most standard, decent, agreeable trans person, and they would still hate you.

I’m a fairly basic trans man, online and off. I tone my gender down even more for work. I have short hair, facial hair, I wear pretty standard non-fitted pants and t shirts with some manner of compressive undergarment underneath, and I go by my fairly basic, common masc name. The only difference between me and my cis coworkers is that I openly engage in good-faith discussions about my being transgender when brought up, and I have a “he/him” pronoun pin I like to wear.

I have one coworker who I’m well aware has never gendered me correctly. I have assumed it was an intentional, bad-faith decision (because of other, unrelated-to-me conversations he has had with coworkers), but I’ve never really cared enough to bring it up to him. I figured, “if this is intentional, that’s his issue. I’m not interested in trying to change his mind.” I’ve reached a point in my transition to where I don’t really care that much if some random person doesn’t respect me or my gender, because I don’t need every stranger’s approval to be happy with myself.

With all that being said, I’ve treated him the same as I have every other coworker. I’ve been civil, I’ve been agreeable, I’ve still been friendly to him and haven’t gone around the workplace intending to smear his name. (Yes, I have discussed his behavior to those close to me who have asked, but I’ve kept it very private and said that as long as he doesn’t say anything outwardly malicious, I don’t really care about his behavior.) He has been outwardly friendly to me, too, telling me about his past careers, showing me pictures of his family, we’ve talked about our hobbies and other things we enjoy.

Still, after all of this, he has given up the ghost and decided to gossip about me negatively to coworkers. I won’t go into detail about what I’ve been told he said, but it was all explicitly transphobic and pretty aggressive. I’ve never gone out of my way to make him mad, relating to my gender or not, so it’s a little out of nowhere. I’m not particularly surprised by this, but I’m more surprised that he would be bold enough to say everything out loud when working for a company that has explicit protections for trans people in place. He was reported fairly quickly, without me ever knowing what occurred. The only reason I found out about everything is because I overheard a manager discussing it with a concerned coworker from my department.

So, if you take anything away from this, let it be that no amount of friendliness, gender-conformity, or civilness with stop a transphobe from taking their transphobia out on you, and it’s not your fault or any other trans person’s fault. Don’t victim blame trans people who become the subject of someone’s transphobic hate, because a transphobe is dedicated to harming trans people regardless of whether they blend in with cis people or not. Don’t use a transphobe’s needlessly malicious behavior as a reason to harass other trans, GNC, nonbinary, or otherwise gender diverse people.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot

A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.

“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”

 “Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.” 

Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”

Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.

“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”

“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”

“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”

Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.” 

The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison. 

Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.

Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.

It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell. 

“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”

“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”

“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”

Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.

“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”

Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.

“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”

“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”

“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”

The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.  

You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.

Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes. 

“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”

Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.

“--soon?”

You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.

“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood. 

You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.

“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you. 

If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.

“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!” 

His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.

“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath. 

Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.

It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.

Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.

Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform. 

“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on. 

Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.

Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories. 

John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps. 

You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain. 

As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly. 

The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations. 

“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”

“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”

“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”

“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”

You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…

Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 

John. 

“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own. 

Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down. 

Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock. 

Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all. 

A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.

Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.

“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”

“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”

Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.

The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?

John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in. 

Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong. 

For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him. 

“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.

If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath. 

It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.

A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. 

Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.

Why did you care?

Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man. 

“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.

John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks. 

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 

“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy? 

Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound. 

If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.

“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”

“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”

“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”

“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder. 

Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.

“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”

Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?

Shut the fuck up!

A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.

Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?

That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.

“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.

“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”

Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes. 

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 

You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up. 

“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.

John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself. 

No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it. 

That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.

The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!

But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you. 

Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.

Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.

If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in. 

You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling. 

That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority. 

But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.

“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”

A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”

When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.

“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?” 

As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight. 

If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you. 

But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force. 

He was your Captain. You were working under him. 

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 

But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.

“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks. 

John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late. 

Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds. 

Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.

You still felt disgusting. 

—

Nothing you did made sense to him. 

John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all. 

She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail. 

I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.

Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong. 

But he knew that would only make it worse.  

“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”

But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that? 

Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.

Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given. 

It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent. 

You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.

John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair. 

The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky. 

Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.

—

The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in. 

You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home. 

Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.

He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too. 

Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown. 

You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.

Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge. 

“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.” 

The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.

Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.

“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation. 

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’

John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories. 

On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand. 

John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters. 

“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight. 

– John”

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.  

More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.

You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago. 

Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances. 

It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.

John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation. 

You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.

“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”

Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch. 

Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking. 

But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands. 

When had this place stopped being home for you?

“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…” 

You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it. 

“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”

“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”

Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch. 

What’s that noise?

“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”

But you weren’t stupid.

A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet. 

You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.  

Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles. 

Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.

“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!” 

Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend. 

“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”

Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided. 

“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!” 

Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”

“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers. 

“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them. 

Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained. 

You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house. 

“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly. 

“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door. 

Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too. 

Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.

The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.

“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”

Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip. 

You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.

“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”

Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.

“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”

“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!” 

“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”

Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”

Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more. 

A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.

“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”

Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.

“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”

Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least. 

You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.

Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.

The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed. 

Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle. 

Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise. 

Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood. 

Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot. 

John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through. 

Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.

That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.

“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.” 

Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat. 

The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.

John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.

“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”

“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”

When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off. 

“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”

The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright. 

Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.

Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his. 

John looked so sad. 

His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.

“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.” 

“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor. 

“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting. 

“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head. 

You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack. 

It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something. 

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone. 

Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.

Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)

He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.

“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”

—

Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter. 

“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?” 

“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?” 

Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.” 

John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod. 

The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.

After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.

Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about. 

“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”

“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”

“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”

“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue. 

To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out. 

It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it. 

“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’

Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from. 

“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.” 

“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”

John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket. 

“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–” 

The bell at the front door jingles. 

Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips. 

A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth. 

You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.

“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”

The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.

“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”

Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”

A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.

Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.

“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.” 

“...Two.”

“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”

“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?” 

A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation. 

Why were you not saying anything?

John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles. 

There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face. 

But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.

Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.

What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…

The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.

Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.

“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two. 

John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?

He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

—

“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”

“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!” 

“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”

“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved. 

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them. 

John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”

“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”

Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens, 

“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?” 

Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name. 

The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress. 

You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.

But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.

Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me? 

It couldn’t be helped.

When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter. 

Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship. 

Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?

You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.

“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon. 

“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.” 

Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.” 

The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out. 

“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”

You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”

“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder. 

Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. 

Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.

“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums. 

“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.

He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again. 

“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.

You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back. 

…Why was his hand still on your back? 

“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you. 

John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.

It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.

Leon was gone.

“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”

The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”

John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you. 

His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.

Stop it.

“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”

“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.

Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.

Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did. 

If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart. 

“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand. 

“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”

You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.” 

Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.

“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”

Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.

“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.” 

He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.

“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.

Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“You bet.”

“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!” 

“What in the–!” 

Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny. 

“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.

“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”

“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.  

You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.

This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold. 

After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?

Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.

You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.

“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head. 

His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water. 

“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out. 

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?

“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.

“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place. 

His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.

“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.” 

The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.

“...Anytime, Dear.”

Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.

The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head? 

When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake. 

Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat. 

“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.

You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?

He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”

“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.

“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty. 

“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.

“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.” 

John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk. 

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach. 

Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.

A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.  

You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.

“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.

If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.

Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore. 

Leon was gone.

“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?” 

Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire. 

You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior! 

Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless. 

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”

But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.

It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.

But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?

And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you. 

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.” 

So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his. 

John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths. 

His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke. 

“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.

“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.” 

His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this. 

Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.

The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.

It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.

Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.

“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”

“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?

His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.

“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths. 

Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.

“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”

He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action. 

His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”

Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow. 

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee. 

You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers. 

“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”

“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point. 

Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now. 

“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever. 

Annoyance swirls.

“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you. 

John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner. 

He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.

You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you. 

John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets. 

“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?” 

Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.

Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs... 

You want him naked. 

“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest. 

The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.

You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.  

When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.

John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand. 

He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.

You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube. 

“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.

Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.

John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug. 

“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”

You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.

A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release. 

Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”

Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again. 

“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”

His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film. 

John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.

“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.

You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release. 

“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.” 

Fuck you were on fire.

Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you. 

John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar. 

Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt. 

“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”

He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.

“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue. 

The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind. 

And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.

John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.

“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”

The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot. 

Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.

John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still. 

Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.

You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.

His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.

“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.” 

You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly. 

“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it. 

Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.

“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”

“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”

Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away. 

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”

You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.

Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.

“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving. 

How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.

But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.

The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.

You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.

Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.

“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself. 

John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.

“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.” 

“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”

“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”

He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.

“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”

The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.

You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too. 

“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes. 

“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”

“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”

Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.

“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.” 

The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same. 

“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made. 

Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available. 

Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it. 

“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.” 

He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.

John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.

A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”

“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.” 

Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”

“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.” 

John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”

He trails.

“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”

Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.

“Easier.” 

It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.

“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”

You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.

Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind. 

John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.

There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared. 

—

“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.” 

Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–

“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 

“Wait!” 

But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick. 

“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?” 

“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–” 

“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?” 

“Out!” 

Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck. 

John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”

Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.  

Well, secret’s out. 

[elanorpam]

it's been way too long since i last did wildly self-indulgent fanart, so of course i did it for an SVSSS AU that doesn't even have any actual fanfiction written of it yet. but what can i say! it's a compelling scenario! Just check the original post for details!

here's a workplace doodle for his mess of an outfit, too:

Xin Mo is floating behind his back, wrapped in talismans. the collars are meant to be vaguely inspired on a flower bud.

Some notes i came up with for this version, copied straight from a month-old discord convo:

he may have protagonist halo now, but he's for sure not a stallion protagonist. he literally exchanged fates with his favorite person in the world in order to spare them a hellish trial-- that's romantic as fuck!! damn!! this is old CLAMP shoujo and no mistake!!

binghe may no longer be the protag, but he's still a half-heavenly demon. power-wise, heavenly demons can't be topped, and all the remaining heavenly demons are accounted for. so, SQQ can't be a heavenly demon, even in part.

HOWEVER, as a protagonist, there's a factor more important than power! it's the CHUUNI FACTOR. what's more CHUUNI™️ than being part demon?

one option is being part demon and part angel.

how would that even fucking work??????? IDK man, you can either pull from chinese folklore for fairies or heavenly beings or spirits, or you can blame Airplane and go "he accidentally implied the existence of christian elements by means of importing unexamined anime tropes"

Shen Jiu conveniently has a big fat blank on his parentage. We as fans can and have put whatever the hell we wanted there.

SQQ would jump into the abyss still under the impression SJ was a shallow villain. If his trip through the abyss involves recovering SJ's memories somehow, that sure would be fun times, huh?

so he awakens a mysterious ancestry and survives the abyss and takes Xin Mo, but he probably takes longer than Binghe did due to being squishier.

but Xin Mo isn't ACTUALLY his! so he papers it over with sealing talismans, and to battle the temptation to wield it he takes to wearing these longass sleeves. they're probably covered in talismans as well.

guessing Xiu Ya stayed behind to be mooned over by the clown trio in Cang Qiong. let's go full sparkle-sue here and say he's now fighting almost entirely via musical cultivation. i like swan-necked konghou harps so let's go with that, it'll look dope.

why is he barefoot? why WOULDN'T he be, is the question. fragile!! suffering!! dainty!! he's a shrinking flower, tormented by the weight of the One Sword To Rule Them All!!

also for extra pathos, his constant mental struggle against Xin Mo means he can't spare energy to front. it takes constant focus! he's still a bit in his delusional shit, but even when he's going "oh no, binghe is only latched throat-deep onto my dick because he's a good boy who's concerned about me and the danger i could pose by losing control" he'd probably… well, he'd probably say that out loud to anyone who asked. he's in a half-trance, mentally battling the crazy-making sword. lying is too much work.

Wouldn’t resisting Xin Mo’s influence be the mental and spiritual equivalent to training under 400x gravity or something? his wife-beam is going to be off the charts when he puts it down.

also also: who the hell dressed him like that? fucking shang qinghua, of course, after SQQ showed up in the northern palace to punish MBJ for hurting binghe in the conference. did the system explain shit to SQH? on the one hand, extremely funny if it updates him on the role change out of nowhere mid-alliance. on the other hand, extremely funny if he only finds out because Binghe is crying safely in Qing Jing while the scum villain apparently jumped into the abyss.

Here's another link to the original AU post! I've had it open on a tab all this time just so i could point to it when I was done, so make sure to check it out!

[achocosun]

all I need is the air that I breathe, and to love you ft. lee mark !

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ genre ; non-idol!mark × fem reader. fluff, pure unadulterated fluff. established relationship au. use of pet names (for her: baby, pretty girl / for him: lovie). just a short drabble to get used to posting on tumblr. ugh this turned tooth-rottingly sweet.

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ word count ; 1.4k (this was supposed to be shorter but well, i got carried away haha)

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ warning(s) ; none that i see ^^

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ notes ; divider by @mewryn (it's so pretty oml)

laughter. the sound of laughter had to be your favorite music that drifted leisurely throughout the apartment.

be it hushed chuckles over a movie or a funny tiktok your boyfriend sent over to you, the rambunctious cackling that tailed your group of friends when they'd indulged a little too much in drinks after dinners that often than not happened in the home you shared with mark–you cherished them all the very same.

before you moved into the flat on the tenth floor, the highest any residential building went in the street equidistant to both of your workplaces, you had some doubts. mostly concerning how eerily quiet it tended to get even with the faint honks of traffic in the heart of seoul.

you could owe it to your upbringing in the city, never once truly alone despite how easily it was slipping into a faraway headspace. you still did that sometimes but after meeting mark, the use of your headphones that'd found purchase against your ears got lesser and lesser. until you could go days just listening to his little tangents.

of course, it was more because of the fact that you adored how his whole face brightened as he shared with you something, anything he held dear. the way his soft brown eyes twinkled as he animatedly explained his point made you lose all sense of reality.

once in sophmore year of college, he had stopped for half a minute and then chuckled at you staring at him in awe. it had taken him waving his hand before you and a "hello, earth to _______? do i have something on my face?" for you to realize your embarrassing predicament.

only mark didn't seem to find it odd. no, on the contrary he found the gesture endearing. he had that tendency to ramble, everyone told him as much. but for you to listen to every word and hang onto it infused a swell in his heart, a giddy feeling he honestly did not want to suppress.

with mark, everything came in it's most simple form. relationships were not supposed to be easy, each one had it's own complications as did yours. but with him you knew you would always try to work through every rough patch because your boyfriend was willing just as much.

you had put an official label on your relationship in junior year, and not being strangers to the amount of teasing that would ensue from your rather large circle of friends, you had decided to keep it lowkey, letting them find out on their own and ease into it.

but with your streak of not keeping your hands–or lips for that matter—off each other, it took them two weeks flat to figure it out. but that's on johnny and his inability to knock on doors as he strutted into mark's dorm as if it was his own, oblivious to you both tangled in each other's arms on the small sofa pushed against the wall beside the balcony.

to your surprise, no noticeably grand change came with the reveal. in johnny's words, you and mark had always been sort of touchy with each other even as friends. he told you to keep the make-outs to a minimum and nobody else would know for sure.

after graduation, mark had mustered up the courage to ask you to move in with him. he had put a lot of thought into it—scoured for decently sized apartments, looked for help from his older friends and even went as far as to ask your parents for their opinion.

of course, the one answer that mattered was yours but even the fact that he asked your parents made you feel elated. and it definitely earned him their seal of approval.

the hesitant question had followed a meal of chinese takeout for dinner as you leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the movie playing in the living room of his childhood home, an arm wrapped around his waist. you had noticed his skittishness all night and it all came to a head as he played with the ends of your hair.

"i was thinking", mark started, taking your hum as approval to continue while you lowered the volume of the tv. "and seriously you can take as much time to think or even say no, i won't force you."

this time you turned to face him fully, a frown creeping up to your face. "what is it, markie? is something wrong?"

"i– well..." he took a sharp breath, eyes never once meeting your own. "i was thinking maybe you can move in with me?"

the silence that followed only plummeted his heart further down his stomach. mark moved an inch away from you, grabbing the remote from your grasp while shaking his head. "never mind. it's way too soon to think of that stuff, right? that's was a sudden, stupid ques—"

"don't say that. nothing you said is stupid." regaining your voice, you shifted closer to him, your grip sliding up his arm and towards nape as you rubbed the area. his shoulders slouched visibly, irrate heartbeat slowing just a little.

you smiled up at him, deft fingers smoothing across his across his brow and finally resting against his cheeks. it took a little tug for him to finally face you, mouth opening and closing as he wracked his brain for the appropriate words to find him when you spoke again.

"i would love to move in with you, mark."

as much as you loved mark when he's talking, sometimes you took great pleasure in rendering him speechless.

as quick as lightning he held your wrists with widened eyes, stopping the advances of your hands down his perfectly sculpted face. you brushed his knee softly as his adam's apple bobbed with a dry gulp.

mark found it hard to even formulate a thought, let alone speak. just when he'd started believing all of this was a bad idea, horrendous really, your admission nearly made his brain short-circuit.

"woah, wait— no. what?" he stumbled over the words eliciting a giggle out of you. "run that by me again, baby. i don't think i heard you correctly."

swatting his shoulder playfully, you took liberty to throw a leg over his, straddling his lap. "you heard me just right the first time, lovie. i think we should do it, move in together. i mean, we have somewhat stable jobs and it would stop us from inconveniencing your parents or mine. honestly, i love your mother but i got goosebumps when she winked at me on the way out."

mark managed a chuckle, rubbing up and down the sides on your legs on either side of him. this had been your arrangement after college. date nights in either of your houses meant the parents always had to leave unless they wanted to walk in on their not-so-little-anymore kids doing anything reserved for behind closed doors.

suddenly, you found yourself being pulled forwards into his chest as his ecstasy evolved into child-like laughter–carefree and unbound. his arms tightened around your form as you succumbed to your own joy.

mark whispered against your hair between pressing kisses to the crown of your head, "i love you, you know that?"

you peeked up at him, cheeks starting to hurt from the wide smile that nothing in the world could dampen. "do you?"

"mhmm. and now that we will live together, i'll remind you everyday, pretty girl. over and over."

sometimes, it scared you how dependent you had gotten on this one single person. finding your chest surging with pride in his every minute success, just as it ached when he hurted.

mark looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. then again, you were sure you'd visit every length to do just that if he so much as asked.

and that night had brought you to this one, sitting against the armrest of the loveseat surrounded by your friends, legs thrown over your boyfriend's as he held you close. you knew he would never let you fall but every fiber in your being appreciated the closeness regardless.

you smiled at haechan's dramatic recounting of some incident in the pub last night, finding comfort in the fingers thrumming to an unknown beat against your hips.

as your eyes wandered to every occupant of the cozy living room of your apartment—yours and mark's—you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars for this chance.

because until you have this little life, this warm, lived-in home, your friends, family and most importantly him by your side, nothing could make you a stranger to the sense of contentment.

© ACHOCOSUN '2024 on tumblr

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 06 - Medical Play]

Pairing: Bratty Good Boy!Seokjin x Hard Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU

Kinks: Doctor & patient role play, brat taming, use of a stethoscope, examination play, anal play, use of a thermostate, use of a prostate vibrator, prostate milking, thigh fucking, impact play with a leather paddle, masochist!Seokjin, subby boy tears, overstimulation, thigh fucking, hips guiding, pissing from too much stimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), he stands against a wall first then lies over her lap, he fakes being sick to get babyboy treatment by her, she finds out and punishes him, they talk about it at first though, cuddly aftercare with lots of praises

Wordcount: 6.8k

a/n: some of you just have such good ideas istfg *kisses anon's mind* this is so hOT JFAJSDFJ

With his schedule being tightly packed, your boyfriend has been practically missing from your life for more than two weeks at this point. You would be lying if you said that you didn't miss him. He leaves when you are still sleeping and comes home when you are already sleeping. It is a lonely life when he is busy. So when you got a call from Seokjin a few days ago, telling you that he would be coming home earlier, you felt delighted. It had been five days since that call and you painfully had to come to term with the fact that the reason for his earlier arrival was a nasty cold. Just like this, went your plans for some nice alone time with him.

You don’t mind caring for him because you wanted to see him better. He always cares for you as well when you are sick or on your period, so you aren’t grumpy about this. You are grumpy because he is the whiniest baby in the history of sick people.

Ever since he came home, he has been complaining about his aching head and stuffy nose non-stop. He even begged you not to leave him, which lead to you calling your workplace to tell them you had to take some time off for nursing-care. A mistake, you later realised. Seokjin acted like a complete baby, whining and asking you to do the most ridiculous things for him. One time you even had to help him pee, as he was too weak to hold Seokjin Junior (his words not yours). 

Eventhough reluctantly, you still did everything he asked of you. He was sick after all and given the many times Seokjin took care of you when your period cramps became unbearable, it was only fair to do the same for him.

That is until Friday came. You had been out shopping for groceries and some dearly needed toiletries when you spotted Seokjin running along the Han River. He looked perfectly healthy, mouth-watering even if you wouldn’t have been that angry. Despite your annoyance, you didn’t say anything to him when you came home. He looked terrible when you came running into his bedroom, his eyes hollow and his skin as pale as his walls. Maybe you had mistaken him for a stranger? 

You hadn’t. So Jimin accidentally dropped the bomb to you today, Saturday, one day after you saw your sick boyfriend running along Han River. Apparently he and Jimin met up for a quick jog and chat. You thanked Jimin for telling you the truth and ended the call.

“When I catch you, Kim Seokjin”, you mumble, stirring the soup for your oh-so-sick boyfriend with the biggest frown on your face.

“Babyyy, please save me”, you suddenly hear him shout from his bedroom. He sounds actually hurt and like the caring girlfriend you are, you waste no time to rush to him as quickly as possible, leaving the steaming soup on the kitchen counter. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask concerned. He has his eyebrows furrowed and a pained expression on his face.

“No I’m not. My pillow is too hot, can you please turn it for me?” he whines. 

You sigh loudly, nope, he is just his annoying lazy self. You clench your jaw, your desire to whack his butt with the soft pillow growing in your stomach.

“You’re disrupting my cooking for this? I was making soup for you. Couldn’t you have turned it yourself?” you ask with crossed arms.

Seokjin shakes his head, wincing in pain afterwards as if the small gesture was too much for him.

“No, my arms are too weak”, he whines looking at you with big puppy eyes. Oh, how you wanted to wipe the pout off of his face. “Please baby help me, I’m so uncomfortable”, he whines even more miserably when you show no signs of moving.

You let out an annoyed sigh before walking to his bedside and pulling the pillow from below his head, making him fall onto the mattress. He groans in pain, rubbing the back of his neck, which hadn’t been ready for the sudden movement before looking up at you with big eyes. You don’t break eye contact with him, your jaw clenched and your fingers clutching onto the white pillow until your knuckles turn white. You could throw the pillow at his head, just once, it would serve him right. You stop shaking it out for a moment, contemplating if you should do it or not. You decide against it, you weren’t raised like that. You still practically throw the pillow at Seokjin’s chest, not even caring how rough your movement was. 

“There. Enjoy it”, you growl, already turning around before Seokjin’s hand clutching onto your apron stops you.

“Baby, are you mad at me? You are acting weird ever since Friday”, he asks with worried eyes.

His question makes you stop and turn around

“I just find it weird that you are down with a cold for more than five days now, when normally you are running around healthy again after two days. Don’t you think it’s a little bit out of character?”

Let’s see if he gets the hint.

Seokjin glances sideways for a moment before he looks back at you. He shrugs his shoulders, leaning back into his pillow.

“It’s because of the AC on the airplane. It made everything so much worse”, he fake coughs, “See? My lungs are practically oozing out of me.”

You grimace at his use of words, making a sound of disgust, “that was rancid.”

Seokjin coughs again, harder than before. You have to give it to him, this man knows how to act.

“I, know, it’s, so, bad”, he chokes out between coughs.

It’s getting ridiculous at this point. You roll your eyes at him before turning your back to him.

“Sure keep telling yourself that”, you grumble before walking out of his bedroom and returning to your task of serving him his highly-requested soup. “You know, I talked to Jimin on the phone.”

“Wha-”

You close the door. You know for a fact that he understood what you were implying. You hope that he boils in his soup of guilt just as wildly as the vegetables in his stupid food do.

You return to him with a bowl of said soup and a glass of orange juice on a wooden tray. Seokjin is sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered in shame.

“I’m sorry”, he murmurs.

“For what?” you ask him because you want to hear him admit it. You walk to the bed, putting the tray on the bedside table. You straighten up, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I lied to you. I haven’t felt sick since yesterday.”

“I know. I saw you run along Han River.”

“You did?!” he gawks up at you with widened eyes.

“I did. But then I came home to you looking like a pale ghost so I thought that I was mistaken. Until Jimin accidentally dropped the truth. I’m disappointed in you, Seokjin. Why are you lying to me? I took days off work to take care of you and you take advantage of me.”

“It’s not that. I have good reasons why I’m still pretending.”

“They must be mighty good reasons because I don’t see any appeal in making your partner dedicate their entire day to health care when it’s not even necessary.”

“I felt good yesterday and, and I took that run with Jimin and I wanted to tell you when you were home, but then on my way home I tripped on the sidewalk and twisted my ankle and now it hurts and I feel shitty again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah seriously. Look”, he pulls the pants leg up, showing you his slightly swollen ankle.

“Oh my god Seokjin, are you okay? That doesn’t look healthy.”

“I can move it”, he demonstrates it with a hiss of pain, “it’s just twisted and my pride is broken. And I need you to take care of me because I’m just an infant in pain.”

You laugh, picking up his pillow to slap his chest with it.

“Shut up you idiot. Only you can manage to get healthy only to blow it by twisting your ankle.”

“I know, I’m stupid and I’m sorry”, he takes your hands, pulling you onto his lap like this. “I shouldn’t have lied. I thought if I kept quiet, I can heal without having to admit my stupid accident. If I knew that you saw me, I would have confessed. I’m sorry.”

You give up with a sigh, “apology accepted I guess. I still think you’re an idiot.”

“I know, that’s your right.”

You snicker, he smiles at the sound of it, rubbing your thighs innocently. You look into his eyes, heart fluttering. With another sigh of defeat, you swing your legs over his lap so you were facing him. His hands touch your lower back, you play with his messy hair.

“I missed you lately, you know?” you tell him.

“I missed you too. Maybe that’s why I don’t wanna get healthy either. If I’m healthy, I gotta leave you for work. I don’t want that.”

“Yeah, I get that”, you say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He chases the affection, squeezing your butt.

“Hey, hands off.”

“Oop, sorry”, he gasps, pulling them away.

You click your tongue, giving his chest a soft slap.

“Only good boys get to touch my butt. You’ve been a naughty boy, so no butt or boobs for you.”

He pouts.

“Pout all you want. That’s what you get”, you say and get off his lap.

Seokjin drops into the pillow with a loud groan, rolling his head to the side.

“You’re both making me horny and breaking my heart.”

You chuckle, “good. The soup’s on the table, eat it while it’s still warm.”

“Wait.” He sits up. “Can’t you feed me?”

“You’re alright.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a weak boy”, he pouts cutely, “please?”

“Fine. You big baby.”

You sit down on the edge of his bed and take the silver spoon between your fingers. Seokjin opens his mouth as widely as possible when you come close to him with a filled spoon. Once inside he closes it, pouting out his lips whilst looking at you through his lashes.

“Wow baby, the soup is amazing”, he gasps, grinning at you. 

“Thanks”, you mumble, eyes glued to his lips.

“More”, he tells you already opening his mouth for you. 

Look at his ready mouth, his pink lips wet from him licking them and his eyes looking at you expectantly. A dark thought flashes through your mind. Oh how you would love to see that face in any other situation than him begging for soup. Like him begging for release, all sweaty and sticky from the lube tripping onto the carpet out of his beautiful ass, his hands folded on his thighs as he is kneeling on the floor, all whilst pretty flocking marks spread all over his skin. It would serve him right for lying to you.

Being lost in your own little fantasy, you don’t even notice your hand had moved on its own until you can hear Seokjin yell out in pain.

“Please blow on it, it’s too hot”, he says eyeing the soup in pain.

“You are a huge baby you know that? Can’t you blow on it yourself?” you whine, still fulfilling his wish.

Seokjin shakes his head, “it’s so much better if you do it. You are so much more skilled with blowing stuff”, he says, his lips twitching up into a small smirk.

You stop blowing. He wiggles his brows.

“Urgh shut up, your flirts are not gonna work on me.”

“I think they are.”

“No, they’re not.” You shove the soup into his mouth. “Shut up and eat your soup.”

Seokjin mewls, looking into your eyes as deeply as possible. You gulp. Look at him. His eyes beg you silently to keep the spoon inside. His lips engulf the metal shaft. They look so plumb, so pink and soft, oh how amazing they would probably feel sucking on your fingers.

You blink, quickly looking away. Your mind had wandered off again, god damnit. 

You pull your hand back and stand up, “I’m cleaning the kitchen.”

Seokjin nods his head, humming obediently.

It is a fair bit cooler in your living room than it was in your bedroom. Exactly what you needed right now. You let yourself fall down on your big couch and close your eyes. Why did your mind have to betray you like that? Yes, he was flirting but you thought of the nastiest of things. But then. Who could blame you? It has been too long since you have been intimate with him. The last two weeks he was never home and before that, he was too busy with practicing and recording new songs and far too tired for sex whenever he came home. It wasn’t a big deal to you at first, it’s not like you can’t survive without sex, but as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into a month, you slowly felt yourself grow desperate. Sure you still had your hands and a big collection of toys to keep you entertained. And oh boy, entertained you were. But you still missed the feeling of his hot skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his soft hands exploring your body and the feeling of his skilled tongue eating you out until you saw stars. 

And Seokjin, he for sure didn’t help at all. Of course you were still a little frustrated with him, but to be honest right now you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones and ride him until both of you lose your ability to speak. Frustrated or not, you were horny and desperate to feel him again. So why not combine both of your current emotions and make it all the more exciting?

You smirk at your idea, jumping up from the sofa to run into your hobby room. You pull open the uppermost drawer of your dark wooden dresser, in which you store a big portion of your sex toy collection. With a few reaches into the drawer, everything you needed was laid out neatly in front of you. A pair of black stockings as well as a pair of red stockings, you will decide later which one would be more fitting. Next to them was a pair of your favourite latex gloves and a bottle of cherry lube, not your favourite but Seokjin has a thing for it so if it makes him happy you won’t complain, and last but not least, you put down a small bag of medical tools and a variety of toys.

With your tools being ready, now all you needed to do was to get ready yourself. You walk to your closet and open the left door, revealing a row full of costumes from a police officer uniform all the way to a doctor’s uniform. You and Seokjin have a slight thing for role plays. It might actually be a little obsession between you and him. Sometimes you both dress up, sometimes it’s just you and sometimes it’s just him.

Your fingers brush over the costume you were looking for, “there you are.”

It is a short, white nurse dress with a red cross on your left breast pocket and a matching hat. Exactly what you needed for the little idea you had in your mind. You slip into the costume and pull the red net stockings with lace on the top up your legs before slipping into red lacquer heels. You finish off your look with a deep red lip and take the big doctor's bag with your toys.

You knock on the bedroom door.

“Come in!” Seokjin calls out.

You slip inside the room. He is sitting up, playing a game on the TV. Now that you found out about his lie, he feels comfortable in doing what he wants.

“Hello there.”

“Hey baby, I finished the soup. It was so good. Thank you for cooking.”

“Seokjin, look at me.”

He obeys and gasps. His jaw goes slack, eyes drinking in every little inch of your body. He instantly presses pause on the game. You smirk at his expression pulling a little pose in front of him.

“I am here to care for you, patient Kim”, you say, your voice sultry.

“Baby!” he exclaims, throwing the control to the side, “what do you mean? Are you serious?”

You hum, putting your hand on one of his thighs. You can feel his muscles tense from your touch and watch his throat move as he gulps hard.

“I’m very serious and you very sick. I need to take care of you, don’t I?” you coo, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Are you…” he gulps and almost whimpers the words, “…gonna be rough with me ‘cause I lied?”

“Do you think that I should be rough with you?” you ask, masking your question for his consent this way.

He licks his lips, whispering a weak, “yeah.”

“Yes? Well if that’s so.” You give his cheek a little slap, making him moan and close his eyes. “I will choose my treatment accordingly.”

“Oh god”, he gets out, ears slowly turning red in giddiness.

You straighten up and place the bag on the bedside table.

“Turn off the TV, I want silence when I work.”

“Yes Miss Nurse.”

“It’s Doctor for you, understood?”

“Y-yes, Doctor ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now that we have talked about that, can I care for you patient Kim?” you ask, taking out the pair of latex gloves.

He ogles them, gulping once again.  

“Yes please”, he begs, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good.” You take out a douche and lube, putting both on his lap. “You know what to do.”

Seokjin takes the tools and rolls out of bed. He limbs to the bathroom as quickly as his twisted ankle allows him.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna get it checked out?” you ask him.

“I have you, haven’t I?” he flirts and disappears in the bathroom.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “he’s such a brat.” Afterwards you turn to your doctor’s bag, preparing the scene while Seokjin cleans out.

It isn’t long until Seokjin limps back to you. You study him while he is busy looking at what you laid out. He seems very excited already, eyes widening in anticipation. He is still in his PJs but brushed his hair. It’s very attractive that he made an effort.

“Okay, stop.” 

He obeys, waiting patiently for you. You let him wait for a little, circling him without touching him. He tries his very hardest not to follow you with his eyes, keeping his head as still as possible.

“Mhm.”

You are in front of him again, writing into your notepad. Seokjin tries to steal a glance but gets caught by you right away. He fixes his head, gulping nervously.

“Hm.” 

More writing. He shifts from one foot to the other, flexing and relaxing his hands. He can’t bear the silence and the unknown. 

“Mh-hm.” 

You finally finish writing by slamming your pen down on the paper to make an aggressiv dot. You did it on purpose, of course, to make Seokjin jump a little. He is so adorable when he startles. 

You place the notepad into your chest pocket and turn to get your first tool. Seokjin might need to say something. He can’t handle the silence. It’s riling him up way too much.

With your back still turned to him, you finally break the silence. 

“Get naked. My examination requires nudity.” 

He follows your orders gladly. Finally. Oh, he is so happy. Finally something is happening. He swears that his cock is already getting harder just from the thrill of doing something.

He stands with his head held high once he is undressed, only his red ears and flushed chest are indicators of his shyness upon being looked at in such a state. He is breathing heavily, nipples erect and cock just hardened enough to look tempting. Not that his cock looks any less tempting when soft. He has the prettiest cock ever.

“Look at you”, you murmur, feeling delirious in need for a moment. It has been too long since you last saw him like this. You missed him and if you weren’t currently lost in a roleplay, you would tell him so. “Your body is very pleasing to look at.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Quiet. I need absolute silence when I work.” 

Seokjin mewls softly, biting down on his lower lip. The inner corners of his eyebrow lift as he gives you the sweetest puppy eyes. You ignore them of course, despite wanting to squish his cheeks and kiss every single inch of his handsome face. You cannot give in.  

You roll your shoulders back and clear your throat.

“Well then, sit down.” 

Seokjin obeys. His back is perfectly straight, his hands are presented on his thighs with his palms up. He looks up at you, eyes still so perfectly cute and lips parted slightly. You let him, but do nothing about it. Your heart is secretly racing however and your mind keeps racing with thoughts of how cute he is. 

You pick up the stethoscope and put it into your ears. 

“Stay still and quiet.”

He nods his head in obedience, holding his breath as you listen to his pulse. You feel tingly. His heart is racing so much. You touch his shoulder, taking in how his pulse flutters and then beats even faster. 

“Mhm I see”, you murmur and put the stethoscope on his back. Like this, your breasts are mere inches away from his face and judging by the sharp intake of breathe, he is aware of that. “Breathe in for me.” 

Seokjinobeys. His breath fills his lungs. His heart races. 

“Breathe out.”

The air leaves him again, but his racingheart remains.

“One more time. In”, you rasp, stepping closer so your breasts would brush against his face.

He obeys your order, but does it very shakily, thighs squeezing together. Through the fabric of your dress you can feel his lips mouth at your breasts and as you glance down, you notice his eyes fell closed.

“Hold it in.”

He obeys while you look at him. He is so handsome when he is lost in you. You shake your head to get rid of your feelings. Do not give in to temptations.

“Breathe out.”

He obeys, hot breath swirling over your clothed chest. It feels so warm and nice. Do not give in to temptations.

“Good”, you say and step back, leaving him to gasp as his heaven gets taken away.

His reaction was definitely worth staying stronger than the temptations. He is so adorable when he realises how easily you can take away his heaven.

“My assumptions were sadly correct”, you say as you write into your notepad.

Seokjin looks at you nervously and beyond turned on.

“You are officially suffering with brattiness. It’s a very serious illness, but don’t worry. I can heal it very easily.”

He mewls, biting his lower lip.

“I will have to make one more examination however to determine the correct treatment”, you say and shove the notepad into your chest pocket.

You place the stethoscope aside and round the bed to look for your next tool. You act as if you can’t find it because you know that Seokjin gets desperate between long waits.

“What are you doing next?” he asks just as expected. He is so predictable. How wonderful.

“Next I will…hm…” you trail off as you look for your tool. “Mhmm…”

Seokjin shifts, trying to sneak a glance. He is such a delight.

“Ah there!”

He exhales shakily, squeezing his thighs together.

“There you are, little thing was hiding”, you say and pick up the thermostat.

Seokjin ogles it, straightening his back and gulping heavily in preparation. You walk back to him, heart fluttering when he tilts his head back and opens his mouth.

“Oh you sweet innocent boy”, you taunt him, closing his mouth with a press to his chin.

He furrows his brows in confusion, puffy lips pouting.

“That’s not how you take a brat’s temperature, you little thing”, you coo and boop his nose.

He gulps, cock twitching because of your words. It twitches again when you dance your gloved hand to his neck and down to his chest. With a gentle nudge, you make him fall into the sheets. He moans loudly, legs hanging off the edge and cock twitching between them.

You inspect him for a moment, let him get desperate again. There is two ways you could go about this. Using the thin neck of the thermostat to sound his cock or stick it up his ass. He would most definitely lose his sanity with both options. The deciding factor is your own greed for seeing him with his legs up. You hook your hands under his knees and lift them, bending them so you can press them into the sheets on each side of his body.

Seokjin moans, gripping his own thighs instantly so he can stay in position.

“You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?” you ask him, preparing the thermostat.

“Yes, Doctor”, he breathes, eyes gawking at the ceiling nervously.

“You know, this isn’t how I normally take my patient’s temperature, but I make exceptions for bratty boys”, you say, wiping the access lube on the laid out towel. You don’t want to put it on his hole because he is supposed to take the thermostat raw. Just the lube on the shaft should make it easier for him. He deserves a little pinch.

You put your left hand on his lower stomach and apply pressure, thrusting the thermostat into his hole at the same time.

“Ah!” Seokjin flinches, toes curling and head lifting off the sheets. His neck is tense and his eyes are widened.

You wiggle the thermostat inside him for a little, rubbing circles into his stomach.

“God hmmm”, he lets out, dimpling his thighs.

“Almost done, I just need to angle it properly otherwise the results could be flawed”, you explain and slide it out just to thrust it back inside again.

Seokjin drops his head, but arches his back. He is so sexy, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“This is such a thin tool and yet you are arching your back. I should put your eagerness for anal stimulation into my notes.”

“Fuck”, he curses under his breath, tensing up in an attempt to come off as uninterested.

You chuckle, shifting your eyes to the thermostat. You press on the button.

“Now we have to wait.”

Seokjin breathes quickly, biting his lower lip. You let him agonise in the silence at first before you break it with a question.

“It is eagerness, isn’t it?”

He nods his head.

“What was that?”

“Yes”, he croaks.

“Yes? So you’re a brat and, forgive my wording, an anal whore?”

“Yes”, he mewls, tensing his neck as your words sink into the deepest fibers of his body. The way you degrade him will always ruin him. You don’t do it so obvious and straight forward like others do, you hide it behind a sweet voice and tender words. You make it sound as if you were being kind to him while in reality you called him the most degrading things. Seokjin swears he could orgasm just from that.

The thermostat beeps.

“Oh? Already done?” you gasp and pull it out quickly, ignoring the needy mewl he lets out. You step back, inspecting the result for a while so he can get impatient again. He shifts, lifting his head. Got him. You smirk, reading the results out loud, “thirty eight point three. Your temperature is a little raised, but I’m sure it’s because of our, well, current situation.” 

You obviously made up the result. He has a very  healthy temperature right now.

“Holy fucking shit, ___”, he gets out breathily, dropping his head into the sheets in utter defeat.

“I’m sorry? What did you just call me?” you hiss.

“Doctor!”

“No no, I think you were being a rude brat again. How fucking dare you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s a little too late for that. You are a lost cause, patient Kim. I thought that I could heal you with natural medicine, but it seems that you need stronger drugs to get good again.”

You walk back to your tools. Wait. Seokjin shows his impatience by dropping his legs so he could crane his neck and look. When all he meets are your darkened, knowing eyes, he tenses up and looks away, gulping nervously.

You sigh, “how disappointing”, you say quietly but loud enough that he can hear.

Seokjin keens, biting down on his lower lip. He doesn’t dare to move, listening to the clicking of your heels as you round the bed again. Whatever you are carrying is going to go inside or on his body, but he doesn’t dare to move.

“You know, I don’t like using such methods to treat my patients, so this is very difficult for me to do”, you talk to him as you prepare the anal plug. 

It is curved and vibrates and it will give him the most delicious prostate stimulations ever.

“I’ll be good, I swear”, Seokjin croaks.

“Of course you will be. Once I’m finished with you”, you say, pushing the plug inside without warning.

“Ah!” Seokjin yelps, closing his legs instinctively.

“Nuh-uh, take it”, you force them apart again, wiggling the toy deep inside him.

“Ahmmmmm”, Seokjin lets out, twisting his own hair. He expected something to go up his ass, but not his favourite vibrator. Anything but this. It feels so good and it isn’t even turned on yet. 

A faint click lets him know that you connected the bluetooth with the remote. He lifts his head, having to still his impatience. You aren’t holding the control, instead a leather paddle is tangling from your finger. You meet his eyes, keeping him captive with nothing but a playful smirk. 

“Fifteen spanks. That’s all you need to bear and then you should be cured.” 

Seokjin gulps, clenching around the toy. He is already dizzy and you haven’t even started yet. 

“It will hurt me more than it will hurt you. I hate having to cure boys like this, but your case of bratiness is too strong. It can only be healed like this.” 

“Please”, Seokjin croaks, eyes widened pleadingly. 

You twirl the paddle. 

“Stand up.” 

Seokjin obeys instantly, chest heaving up and down quickly and eyes following you as you come closer. 

You connect the paddle with his chest, guiding it over his skin as you round him. Goosebumps follow the touch, he is chasing you with tenses of his muscles. 

“Can you stand?” you ask him and the sound of your voice is enough to let him know that you are being serious right now. 

“It doesn’t hurt right now.”

“Good. Tell me if it starts to.”

“Okay.”

“Now”, you give his buttocks a gentle spank to pull him back into the scene.

He gasps, tensing his buttocks. 

“Against the wall and put your hands up.”

Seokjin obeys, barely breathing. This is so exciting to him. And so incredibly hot. 

“Legs further apart”, you order, spanking his inner thighs gently.

He obeys, fingers twitching on the wall. He is in a dream. You literally own him. 

“Very good. We can begin.”

The vibrator springs to life, dragging a yelp of pleasure from his lips. He throws his head back, knees buckling and buckling again as you land your first spank before he could even recover from the surprise. 

“One.” 

The second spank knocks him into the wall. Not because you were so rough with it, but rather because Seokjin is weakened. His legs are shaking because of the toy. It feels so good, pressing right against his prostate and stimulating his rim as well. You chose his favourite setting. Everything about the toy is currently ruining him and then you come along and spank him. Of course he ends up falling against the wall. He can only handle that much. 

You care rather little about his struggles, lifting your arm for yet another spank. You count loudly, striking his tender skin at the same time. His left buttocks jiggles and reddens. You give him no break, landing the forth strike on his right buttocks to even it out. 

“Mistress”, Seokjin whimpers, clawing at the wall as he tries to drag himself up. His cheek is squished against it, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I appreciate the manners, but that’s not what I told you to call me. Two more spanks are needed. Five, six.”

He flinches with each impact, legs shaking and cock throbbing. It is rubbing against the wall, leaving wet imprints of his pleasure. He can’t help himself. The vibrator feels so good on his prostate that he keeps leaking. 

“Seven”, you make it sting especially well by striking him across both buttocks. The impact pushes the toy deeper. 

“A-ah wait”, Seokjin stumbles, convulsing. He reaches behind himself, “hurts. Ankle hurts.”

You stop the vibrator, letting the paddle tangle on your wrist for now. You hold his waist.

“Sit down, baby. Careful, okay?” 

“I’m okay, just felt my ankle pinch.”

“That’s alright. Just sit down and get comfy.”

He does so with a hiss, shifting and wiggling as the toy presses deeper into him. 

“Oh god”, he gets out, pressing his hand to his lower stomach. He rolls his eyes back, folding himself in half. “Doctor I can’t. More please.”

You chuckle, relaxing. What a relief to see him so desperate for more. 

“I think the question of if you wanna continue is useless?”

“Please Doctor, I’ll do anything. Please.” 

“Fine. You still have eight spanks left anyway. It wouldn’t be wise to stop in the middle of your treatment. Just know that I will find no pleasure in hurting you”, you say and sit down on bed next to him. 

Seokjin falls over your lap without having to be ordered to. He sticks his ass into the air, burying his face in the sheets. His eagerness melts you.

You chuckle, rubbing his heated butt.

“If you’re being such a good boy, I feel like I’m giving you the wrong treatment.” 

“No please. No, i-i-it’s only because it’s working. Please I need more, it’s not enough you, you champignon.” 

“Champignon?” you chuckle. 

“Yes, that was an insult. The brattiness is coming back.”

You laugh. He is such a goof sometimes. 

“It seems like it does”, you play along, “very well then, more treatment is necessary”, you conclude and turn on the vibrator. 

Seokjin moans, cock twitching on your lap and thighs shaking. He is back in heaven. It is so intense, so electric, so warm. The vibrations ebb and rise in intensity, making it feel as if you were moving the toy in and out of him.

“Where were we?” 

“Seven”, he croaks

“Ah yeah and what comes after that?”

“Eight-ah!”

“Good job. Oh that felt good. I can really leave an imprint in this position. Nine.”

Seokjin can feel it as well that you are having a lot more impact in your spanks. They burn, hitting him sharply. No words can describe how much he needed that. He twists the sheets, arching his back. 

“Ten.” 

Pain. So sharp. So deep. So good. Seokjin trembles on your lap, toes curling and cock leaking uncontrollably. As a matter of fact, he managed to smear your thighs with so much of his excitement that his cock manages to slip between them. 

He feels it instantly, spilling tears and sobbing your name. 

“Wrong name. You’ve brought the next two on yourself”, you say and strike him with such vigour it echoes for a second. 

Seokjin takes them happily, fucking his sensitive cock with your thighs as his prostate throbs and his ass burns. 

You noticed his cock between your thighs as well. Of course you did. It is so hard and wet. You should stop him, but you don’t want to. He looks so good when he is humping you like a stupid puppy. Especially when he humps even harder each time you strike his reddened buttocks. 

You only have three more to go and you really want to make them count. The first you land on the lower area of his right buttocks. It’s especially sensitive, resulting in Seokjin to squeak and sob into the sheets.

“Don’t cry. It’s only for your best. You’re almost done, I promise.”

The second spank you land on his other buttock, wanting to make it equal. Seokjin twitches and writhes, fucking your thighs sloppily. There is no rhythm behind his movements, just utter and pure desperation. His noises let you know of it as well. He is squeaking so much. It is so honest, so utterly submissive and perfect. 

“Last one. I’ll make it hurt, I don’t want to, but I have to”, you say and lift the paddle. You aim it to the middle of his ass, across his flushed buttocks.

Seokjin takes it with a scream, orgasming against his will.

“I’m sorry”, he sobs into the mattress, shaking uncontrollably.

“Nono, don’t apologise. This is perfect”, you say and grab his hips to guide their movements. You force him to fuck your thighs quickly, despite the overstimulation that causes. 

Seokjin wails up, muffling himself a second later by biting the sheets. You speak of perfection while your hands torture him. You aren’t happy about his unwanted orgasm, you are happy that you can overstimulate him because of it. That you can force him to pound your creamed thighs and take the vibrations until he can’t help but squirt all over himself. 

He gags and cries, trying to flee you but you only press him tighter to your lap as you laugh menacingly. The floor gets dirty. You hear it. How wonderful. He is so big and strong and yet right now, he is the smallest and weakest person to have ever existed. And you did that. By spanking his ass to the point of bruising and overstimulating every single one of his pleasure spots, you reduced him to your little bitch. 

“Yellow, red, I don’t know, just no more please”, Seokjin begs after he finally stopped fucking squirting all over himself.

“Good boy”, you praise, releasing his hips. You turn off the toy and tug it out carefully, discarding it on the towel. 

Seokjin sits up and climbs on your lap, hugging you tightly.

“Oh you sweetie, come here you”, you say, hugging him back, “you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Seokjin whimpers, hiding away in the safety of your neck. His lips nib on it slowly, his breathing is shaky, but calms down the longer he is in your embrace. 

“That was pretty intense and you handled it so well. God, I’m so proud of you, sweetie. I have the best boy ever”, you praise him, playing with his hair. You have your left hand on his lower body, massaging whatever sensitive spot of his butt is exposed. It is hot to the touch. 

He chases your hand, which lets you know that he likes it. You still want to hear it from him.

“Is this nice for you?” 

“Yes, really.”

“Then I’ll keep doing this. My good boy, you took me so well. Was it good for you?”

He nods his head vigorously, “it was perfect. Everything was perfect. You are perfect.” 

You smile, hugging him closer. 

“This feels good to hear. I love you, Jinnie baby.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your shoulder. “So much, it’s insane”, he whispers, making your heart flutter. 

He lifts his head, meeting your love-filled eyes. He mirrors your state with flushed cheeks and puffy, bitten lips. 

“You look ruined”, you chuckle, wiping the tears from his lashes. 

“I am ruined. I pissed myself because you wouldn’t slow down.” 

“I know. That’s why I did it. You’re so pretty when you lose control over yourself.”

His ears turn red, his eyes can’t seem to meet yours anymore. You chuckle, rubbing his buttocks.

“Does your butt hurt lots?” 

“It’s definitely sore, but I don’t mind. You spanked me perfectly.” 

“I did?” 

“Yeah”, he hugs you, “I love being your sub, ___.” 

“Oh wow, you say the sweetest stuff, my baby”, you gasp and cradle him as tightly as possible, “my sweet sub, I love having you too.” 

Seokjin melts into you with a sigh, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

“I’ll still be sick for the rest of the week.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mhm, at least to the public. We have so much catching up to do.”

“I can get behind this plan”, you say in a smile.

“Good, then tomorrow you’re getting breakfast in bed.”

[piedinthepiper]

You owe me (pt. 2) ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader x mafia!Taehyung (slightly)

Summary: His efforts seem pointless. But when it comes to jealousy, anger and you, he just can’t help himself. And neither can you.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dubcon, stalking?, breaking and entering, mention of murder, mention of other types of crimes, angst, weapons (a knife), cursing, male m, descriptive smut, angst

Wc: 7.4k

A/n: Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on this fic. Since so many wanted a part 2 I made a part 2! Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

Your back felt a sudden relief as you finally laid down in bed. It had been a long day. A very long day. A new patient took up almost all you time. Taehyung Kim. He was being charged with robbery and murder, and his lawyer had hired you to potentially give him a diagnosis that could help him in court.

You had to assign some of your other patients to a few of your coworkers, just to make time for him. But this is what you love doing. You wanted to help. Especially now, after what you learned about your entire career. You wanted to prove yourself. You knew you were good.

You turned off you lights and put your phone on the nightstand. Finally you were in the comfort of your own bed. Ready to fall asleep and dream the night away. Trying not to think about how early you had to wake up tomorrow. You had finally found a comfortable sleeping position after squirming around a bit. You felt all your muscles relax, starting to recognise the slow fade of sleep.

But suddenly a loud noice filled the room. Your body tensed again, jumping at the sudden sound. You rolled your eyes as you turned around, annoyed at yourself that you forgot to turn on ‘do not disturb’. Your phone screen lit up in your face, you squinted at the bright light hitting your eyes. You managed to decipher a message from an unknown number. You didn’t open it, writing a mental note to check it out tomorrow. If it was one of your patients they would have to wait until the morning. It was almost unprofessional to answer a text at 1 am.

You entered the doors to your workplace, expecting to see Erin behind the counter smiling at you.

“Good morning, Erin.”

You said like you always do. You halted once you saw her sitting there, not smiling, not saying anything. She just looked at you with a concerning look. Before you could ask her what’s wrong you looked over at the waiting chairs. You had seen a person in your peripheral view, something that was odd considering the office wasn’t even open to patients yet. You quickly understood what was going on once you saw who was sitting there.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

His familiar voice filled the dead quiet room. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. He had not contacted you after the incident in your office. You had almost, almost, forgotten him. But there he was, looking the exact same as you remembered him.

“Mr. Jeon.”

You stated. Not really knowing what to say. You were caught off guard by the whole situation. Some naive part of you thought that he had gotten what he wanted and would leave you alone. Forever.

“I thought you had stopped calling me that. Aren’t we more intimate at this point?”

You sighed at his question. Looking over at Erin for a second to see if she understood what he meant.

“He said he wanted to see you. I told him we wer-“

“It’s fine Erin, Mr. Jeon can be quite persuasive.”

You interrupted her as she started to apologise for letting him in. You looked back to him. His classic smirk was plastered on his face.

“I have an hour before my first patient arrives.”

You said and looked quickly at your wristwatch, before starting to walk down the hall towards your office. You heard his footsteps following behind you.

Once inside your office you took off your jacket and hung it up before sitting down behind your desk. He was quick to sit down on the sofa. A sense of deja vu washed over you.

“Why are you here, Jungkook?”

He looked confused by your question.

“You didn’t see my messages? Or my voicemails?”

It was your turn to look confused, as you couldn’t remember getting any texts or calls from him.

“Maybe you were asleep, I don’t know.”

He shrugged. You remembered the message from last night. The one you didn’t bother to read. You picked your phone up from your bag, turning off ‘do not disturb’. Hundreds of notifications from the same number appeared on your lock screen.

“You were the one that messaged me last night?”

You asked as you opened your phone.

“So you did read them?”

He asked in excitement. You shook your head at his question, too focused on your phone. You opened iMessage and hit the top notification. A series of long paragraphs of text appeared.

“I didn’t think it was you.”

You mumbled as you scrolled upwards trying to get to the start of what he had sent you.

“Listen, I’ll just tell you. It feels weird to watch you read something I poured my heart into.”

You looked up at him, before you put the phone down on your desk. Crossing your arms over your chest.

“Be quick.”

He thought for a second about where to start and what the most important things to tell you were.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m ready now.”

The room went quiet as you waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“What are you talking about?”

You asked confused.

“That’s the brief version of it. You told me to be quick.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I think I need a little more than that.”

He smiled at you like a child telling a joke for the first time. He leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve seen another psychologist. He’s helped me a lot. I’m doing well, I’m not some self absorbed dick, I’m not so angry anymore. And I’ve gotten to know your father as well. I’ve done my end of the promise, now it’s your turn, y/n.”

He got serious at the last sentence. Shifting his eyes from the innocent doe, to the man you remembered from your last meeting.

“You went to my father?”

You asked in shock, not caring for whatever he said after that.

“Yeah. Might as well get to know my future father-in-law a little better while I fulfilled my promise.”

You let your head fall down to your hands, and let out a long sigh. Visibly showing him that you were upset.

“I’m happy you’re doing better, I really am. But I did not promise you anything. Definitely not to marry you.”

His eyes changed again. You could tell he was upset.

“Don’t you think you owe me that?”

He asked slyly, cocking his head slightly to the side. You shook your head.

“You can’t hold that over my head forever. It’s not fair!”

You answered strictly.

“I’m not holding it over your head, baby. I’m asking you.”

“Well, then my answer is no. I don’t owe you shit. Now get out of my office.”

You answered quickly. Wanting him to leave so you didn’t get too upset, and started making bad decisions again.

“We don’t have to get married right away, or not at all if you just want to be my girlfriend.”

He offered. You suddenly stood up from your chair, pointing angrily towards the door.

“Out.”

You said.

“I don’t care if I owe you. I don’t care if you’ve gotten better. You’re still a mobster, you’re still a murderer and you’re still a sociopath. I could never date you. I could never even be friends with you. Don’t you understand?”

You ranted when he didn’t leave the sofa. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the floor.

“It’s him isn’t it?”

He asked, still not looking up at you. He was frightening like that. You felt the same fear, you felt the first time he talked to you like that. He was showing his true colours.

“Who?”

You asked carefully as you sat back down again. He looked up at you with anger and jealousy in his eyes.

“Your new patient. The jailbird, you spend a lot of time with him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, and? He’s nothing but my patient.”

“Are you sure? I’ve seen him on the news, he’s quite attractive. Just your type.”

You scoffed and gave him an offended look.

“Yes I’m sure. Who are you to accuse me of having an affair with a patient?”

“Because you had one with me.”

You sighed.

“We did not have an affair.”

You stated, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Then what do you call it?”

The room got quiet. To be honest you never thought about what you would call it. You didn’t want to think about it at all. It went against everything you stood for.

“Please, just leave.”

You said, you felt your eyes getting watery for some reason. Maybe it was because you were scared, or surprised. Or maybe even sad to see him again.

“I can tell you’re upset. We still need to work things out. Can we talk sometime? Not here, somewhere not so formal.”

You looked up at him again. His eyes were soft, he seemed to really care that you were affected negatively by this. For some reason you found it endearing.

“You can come to my place, we can talk and-“

“There’s no way I’m voluntarily going to your place.”

You interrupted him. He looked down in defeat for a few seconds.

“Please, y/n. I just want to show you that I’m better. I want to show you all I’ve done for you. I don’t want to argue with you.”

He said softly. His eyes were also teary now. You hated yourself for getting affected by his feelings. You hated that you thought this was a tender moment.

“Do you promise that we’ll only be talking?”

You asked. Not knowing why you were agreeing to this in the first place. Maybe you were naive, but it seemed that he actually had changed. Even if he still was delusional and obsessive.

“Of course, I would never do anything to harm you. I love you.”

He said, slightly excited. The room got quiet once again. You had silently agreed to meet him at his place.

“I’ll send you the address. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

He said, before getting up and walking out the door.

“Wait-“

You tried to say, but he was already gone. You wouldn’t be able to make it on Thursday.

You sat down at the table, waiting for the guards to bring in Mr. Kim. This week had been stressful. Not only because of your case with Mr. Kim, but also because of all your other patients. It was hard having time for them while handling such a big case as his. You had to work overtime the entire week, and you were exhausted.

“Good afternoon, y/n.”

He said as two guards brought him in. He had learned your first name quickly, and refused to use your title or last name.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. How are you?”

He smiled, and waited to answer until the guards had chained his legs to the table and left the room. You never felt unsafe being alone with him, even if he was a convicted murderer. His hands were always handcuffed, the same with his legs, so he couldn’t reach you. You knew the guards watched you from outside the big tinted glass. It allowed you to lower your guard, and treat him like you treat your other patients.

“I’m doing amazing now that you’re here.”

He said and smirked. Like Jungkook said, he was attractive. His hair was always combed back, and the all grey clothing actually suited him. He had some kind of lightning tattoo that went up his neck, due to his clothing you didn’t know if he had any more of them.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

He asked back. Still keeping intense eye contact with you.

“We did talk about not calling me anything but my name, do you remember that?”

You asked him strictly. He chuckled.

“It’s hard not to call you something you are, don’t you like compliments?”

You started taking off your coat. It was cold when you entered, but with two people in the little room it was too warm to keep your wool coat on.

“We’re not here to talk about me. I’ve given you permission to use my first name, that’s all.”

You said as you draped the coat over your chair. You looked back at him, he wasn’t looking you in your eyes anymore. This time his eyes were focused on your exposed cleavage. You hadn’t worn low cut tops with him yet, only oversized jumpers due to the weather. You suddenly became very aware of yourself and pulled your top up, trying to hide more of your cleavage. His eyes went back to your face, and you decided that you would wear something less revealing next time.

“Whatever you say, y/n.”

He put extra pressure on your name this time. You gave him a small smile, before you looked down at your notes.

“Why don’t we start were we ended things? Do you remember what I told you I wanted us to talk about?”

He sighed, but nodded.

“My teenage years?”

He asked. You nodded back at him.

“I was a good teenager, I didn’t do drugs, I came home before my curfew, did well in school.”

He memorised.

“But I did like girls. I really did. It was my weakness.”

He said, quickly flickering his eyes down to your cleavage again.

“Why do you say it was your weakness?”

You asked, writing it down in your notes. He started smirking again.

“Since I was such a good teenager, I stayed home a lot. After I did my homework or studied for tests I didn’t have anything to do. Until I found porn.”

He let out a groan, almost like he was in pleasure just by the thought.

“I would spend all day just jerking off to random girls online. Whenever I saw a pretty girl outside I would go straight home and jerk off to her too.”

You felt yourself getting a bit uncomfortable at his bluntness, but didn’t say anything to let him continue. You focused on your notes instead.

“It would take up my entire day, I felt crazy at times. And now that I don’t have anything to do, I find myself doing the same in my cell.”

You nodded, still looking down at your notes. Not wanting to look at him while he talked about something so intimate.

“But the only one I can think about is you.”

He said almost as if he was out of breath. You finally looked at him. And saw that one of his hands had slid under the waistband of his trousers.

“Come over here and sit on me, baby.”

He moaned. You didn’t know what to do or say, you froze. The door opened and two guards came in.

“No- please! Y/n! Please fuck me! I need you. I fucking need you so bad!”

He yelled as he was practically carried out of the room. You sat there speechless, in the now empty room.

“I think it’s best for him to have a male psychologist, I can no longer treat him.”

You called Mr. Kim’s lawyer the minute you sat down in your car. You told him what had happened.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He said back.

“I’ll send all my notes to the man you’ll appoint.”

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Y/l/n.”

You said a small goodbye, before you hung up. While you were driving home you started to think about what happened today. You felt useless and it felt unfair. Why did you have to end up in all kinds of mess. First it was Jungkook, and now Mr. Kim.

Jungkook. You had completely forgot that you were supposed to meet him today. You sighed. Meeting him was the last thing you wanted to do. Maybe it was better to just say you forgot if he contacts you again. Since your session ended earlier than expected, you would actually have time to eat a proper meal and go to bed at a reasonable time. And with Mr. Kim’s case being transferred to someone else, you could finally use all your time on your normal patients. Even if the day had been horrible, you still had a massive weight lifted off your shoulders.

You walked up to your door, struggling with your keys to find the right one. Once you found it you put it in the keyhole and twisted, hearing the familiar click. You reached for the door handle and attempted to open it. But it didn’t budge. Did you not lock your door this morning? You twisted the key the other way again, and thought that it must be the exhaustion taking a toll on you.

When you finally were inside your own house you took off your coat and hung it up with your bag. You took off your shoes and looked at yourself in the big mirror you have in your hallway. You looked down at the white low cut top. It wasn’t even that low, but a part of your cleavage did show. In what felt like a fit of rage you took it off yourself. Hurriedly lifting it over your head and throwing it on the floor. You never wanted to wear that top again. You stormed over to the kitchen. You needed something to drink, you were so thirsty. So thirsty that you failed to notice the man sitting in your sofa. You swung the fridge door open, grabbing a carton of orange juice and downing what was left of it.

“Rough day?”

A voice emitted. You jumped and your heart started raising. You looked over at the sofa where the voice came from. Jungkook? Jungkook. You quickly ducked down behind the counter, remembering that you were only in your bra.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

You yelled at him. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you were so confused. What was going on?

“Y/n, calm down! Please.”

You heard him get up from the sofa, taking hasty steps towards you. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you suddenly jumped up again and grabbed a knife. Pointing it towards him. He quickly halted, putting his hands slightly up in front of him.

“Come on, it’s just me.”

He said, leaning his head to the side.

“Exactly!”

You said, slowly moving away from him.

“Why are you here? How did you get in?”

You yelled at him, firmly holding the knife between the two of you.

“Baby, please calm down.”

“How can I calm down?! You broke into my house!”

He sighed, and went quiet for a moment.

“Put the knife down, you know I won’t do anything to you. Please, let’s just talk. That’s why I’m here.”

He said in a calm voice. You shook your head, you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. This was all too much for you. You threw the knife onto the kitchen counter and covered your eyes. You started crying. You were so overwhelmed. From the situation earlier today, to Jungkook suddenly appearing in your life again, to just the pure exhaustion. You needed to cry. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You couldn’t put up the facade you usually do. And suddenly you felt two arms wrapping around you. He hugged you. And for a moment you leaned into it. You felt safe in his arms. It comforted you. It reminded you of when your father hugged you after your first boyfriend broke up with you. It was like knowing that someone cared for you when you felt as if the whole world was against you. Until you remembered who was hugging you. Because it definitely wasn’t your father. And the reality of you standing in just your bra with someone that broke into your house hit.

“Get off of me!”

You suddenly screamed, and started pushing his strong chest. Tears still streaming down your face.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you, Jungkook! My life has been a nightmare since the minute I met you!”

You screamed at him with all your lung capacity. Your throat got immediately sore.

“You’re fucking crazy! And I’m tired of playing your fucking games!”

He took several steps away from you, but you walked after him. Pointing your finger in his face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you?! How can you be so fucking awful?! You’re an awful person!”

He continued to stay silent through your fit of rage. Letting you ride it out.

“I hate you.”

You said, calming down but still crying.

“I hate you so much.”

You said taking a deep breath. You wiped your tears. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Speechless. You adverted your eyes to the floor.

“Please leave. Can you please leave me alone? Please, just-“

You started, continuing to wipe your tears. You had resulted to begging him to leave your life.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jungkook. I can’t.”

He grabbed your chin softly, raising your head up to meat his eyes. He was also crying. He silently kissed you. And you let him, too exhausted to do anything else. He pecked your lips, before walking away. He left you there, all alone in your kitchen. As you heard the door close behind him you fell down to the floor. Continuing to weep.

After a month of silence from your former patient you felt content. It had been a month, and there was no sign of him. Your life had gone back to normal again. It was definitely a good thing to tell him exactly what you meant. This time you had been harsh on him, to make him understand you were definitely not interested.

After three months you started thinking that maybe you had been too harsh on him. Maybe you should’ve eased him out of your life. Not gone all crazy on him. But he didn’t contact you, and you were definitely not going to contact him. So telling him that you were sorry was out of the question.

On the fourth month you thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to contact him. Just to tell him you were sorry for being mean of course. He was really attached to you in his own weird way. Getting rejected by someone you had planned out your entire life with must be hard. What if he had gone back to his old ways? What if your rejection caused him to live in agony? To fall into depression?

On the fifth month you found yourself standing in the lobby of his hotel. If you were going to apologise, you were going to do it in person. That’s way more genuine rather than over a text. You definitely didn’t want to see him again, but anything for a real heartfelt apology!

“I’d like to see Mr. Jeon, is he here?”

You asked before the receptionist could say anything. He smiled at you.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?”

He asked in a costumer support voice. You shook your head.

“No he isn’t.”

You answered short.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you access to his suite if he’s not expecting you.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew you had to lie.

“He’s not expecting me, but I’m his psychologist, ok? I need to talk with him, it’s important.”

You said in your serious voice. Shoving your business card in his face like you were a cop.

“I’m sorry-“

“You will be sorry if you don’t help me out here.”

You hit your palms onto the counter before you. The man slightly jumped at your action.

“Look, I’m not asking for the fucking key to his nightstand, I just want to know his room number for gods sake!”

You were starting to get annoyed at the poor man just trying to do his job. He looked quite frightened at your outburst. He thought for a second, before he nodded.

“717.”

He simply said. You thanked him and hurried over to the elevator. Once you reached his door you stopped yourself. Was this really the right thing to do? Maybe you should just leave, he wasn’t your concern anymore. Why weren’t you happy he was out of your life? Why? Why? Why?! The door suddenly opened, and you were sucked out of your thoughts. A man stood there, a familiar man, but not Jungkook.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He said with a smirk on his face. He quickly pulled you into a hug. Letting his hands drop dangerously low on your waist. He took a deep inhale of your hair, letting out a small groan. It gave you instantly chills in all the wrong places. You tried pulling away from the incredibly awkward hug, but his grip on you was tight. He decided when the hug ended, but stayed close to you. Resting his hands on your hips.

“Let go of me! What are you doing here?”

You asked him and tried to get som distance from him, pushing at his chest. But his strong grip on your hips didn’t loosen.

“What are you doing here is the real question. A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be in a hotel like this.”

“Get off of me!”

He smirked and leaned in closer to you again. Whispering in your ear.

“Why don’t you come with me to my room? I still can’t get you off my mind, sweetheart.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly next to you. Taehyung reacted immediately. Jungkook. You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. His eyes were focused on Taehyungs hands, planted on your hips.

“She said ‘get off’.”

He almost growled. Taehyung smiled, but removed his hands. Putting them defensively up in the air.

“Sorry, boss. Just had to catch up with my psychologist. She’s the girl I told you about.”

Taehyung started. You were in shock. They knew each other?

“I know.”

He answered and looked at you for the first time. There was a sort of a melancholy feeling in his eyes.

“You know it all, man. I’ll just-“

“Leave.”

Jungkook finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah, leave. I’ll leave. Nice seeing you again, y/n. We have to meet up sometime.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

You answered quickly, not taking your eyes off Jungkook.

“I won’t take no for an answer, baby.”

Taehyung said and stepped closer to you again.

“Yes you will, now leave.”

Jungkook said strictly.

“Okaaay, I’ll leave. Whatever.”

He said and walked away. You followed Taehyung with your eyes, watching as he disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. When you looked back at Jungkook, you discovered he had been staring at you the entire time. You felt anger building up inside you.

“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

You said, you almost sounded hurt.

“It’s not like that.”

He answered. You rolled your eyes at him. He didn’t exactly sound convincing. You had no intention of apologising to him anymore.

“Let me guess, you didn’t hire Mr. Kim to ruin my case so I could run back right into your arms? It was just a convenience that you were waiting for me when I came home, right?”

You asked in a sarcastic tone. He went quiet. You scoffed and turned to walk away. He grabbed your arm harshly so you couldn’t leave.

“I didn’t, I promise. Let me explain, please.

You sighed.

“Let me go.”

He shook his head.

“Y/n, just come-“

“Let me go.”

You interrupted him. After a few seconds he listened to you, and let go of your arm. You stood still, contemplating if you should leave for good this time. Instead, you slipped passed him into his room. His suite was huge, it was more like an apartment really. Modern with expensive furniture and paintings scattered around the room. He had a lot of money, you knew that, but you didn’t know it was to this extent.

“You better explain-“

You were suddenly caught off guard by his strong arms turning you around and embracing you in a tight hug.

“You came back to me! I knew you would! Oh, I’m so happy to see you again, baby!”

He said in a boyish tone. It was a sharp contrast to his interaction with Taehyung. You weren’t able to immediately react, getting lost in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you once again.

“Stop it, Jungkook. I’m still angry with you.”

You said and wiggled out of his hug. He looked at you with hurt in his eyes as he saw you brushing off imaginary dust from your skirt.

“I understand. Sit, I’ll get you something to drink.”

He said and walked out of the room. You did as you were told, sitting down on his white cashmere sofa. He came back with two cups of tea, placing them carefully on the glass table before sitting down beside you. You didn’t say anything, you waited for him to say the first word.

“Just uh- please just listen to me ok?”

He asked and looked at you. You nodded.

“I didn’t exactly plan this. Taehyung was stupid enough to get caught and ended up in prison. I told my lawyer to get you on his case. I knew a case like that would be amazing for your career.”

You shook your head disappointedly.

“I’ve told you I don’t want your help. Why-“

“Listen, y/n. Please just let me explain.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, but you stayed silent.

“Anyways, after a while he confessed to me that he was in love with you.”

You watched his entire body go stiff at his statement. He clenched his fists in jealousy.

“You know I’m willing to go lengths for you to succeed, baby. But- I had to stop him. I refuse to let him have you like that. Especially when we weren’t even talking to each other. So that night I sent you all those messages.”

He unclenched his hands and put his hand carefully on your knee.

“I knew he would do whatever I told him to, so I said if he got you out of the case I’d get him out of prison.”

“So you asked him to jerk off in front of me?”

Jungkooks face changed drastically. He did not seem pleased about the new piece of information you just gave him.

“He did that?”

He asked, his tone had changed from apologetic to dangerous. You nodded. His grip around your knee tightened. You put your hand over his, to show him that he was hurting you.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

He said looking you straight in the eye. Another set of chills ran down your back. You knew he meant it. It was not a loose threat.

“This isn’t about him, Jungkook. You pushed him do it. And then you broke into my house, expecting to be treated like some kind of hero.”

You pushed his hand off your knee. He started staring into the air. A million thoughts running through his head.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that your behaviour is insane?”

You stated. He was still being quiet.

“You need to stop.”

You said a little calmer, trying to comfort him.

“I did.”

He said and looked at you.

“I did stop, because that’s what I thought you wanted. But now you were the one that came to me.”

He caught you off guard. It was your turn to be quiet this time.

“I’ll always do what’s best for you, because I love you, y/n. I don’t care how insane I sound or look to you. But why are you here if you think that of me?”

You looked away from him, knowing you had no rebuttal.

“You called me an awful person, you told me you hated me. And I can take it. But I can’t take another rejection from you! I just can’t!”

He raised his voice now. He was getting emotional.

“I’m sorry.”

You said so lightly it was almost a whisper. He stopped ranting and the room got quiet.

“That’s why I came here. To tell you that I’m sorry.”

You looked back to him again. His eyes were big and filled with so much love. You had never seen him like that before.

“I’m sorry I said I hated you, and that you’re crazy and an awful person. None of it true.”

He nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. You became quiet again.

“Is that it?”

He asked carefully. You nodded, shifting awkwardly in the sofa.

“Yeah, I should probably leave.”

You said, taking his hint. Preparing to walk out and never seeing him again.

“No.”

He said, and shifted towards the end of the seat.

“No, not like that.”

He said in a hurry, and took ahold of you hands. You looked confused at him.

“I didn’t mean for you to leave. Don’t leave.”

He sounded almost desperate, clinging onto your hands. You nodded and gave him a short smile.

“What I meant to say is, is that the only reason you came here?”

You thought for a second. Was saying sorry the only reason you came? That’s at least what you told yourself. But at the same time you felt like you owed him more. You didn’t know what you felt. You had been an emotional wreck for months now.

“Yes.”

You answered. Trying to keep cool and not overthink the entire situation. You didn’t want to see him, you had to. Because you’re a good person. That’s all. That’s it. But it didn’t feel like it. It definitely didn’t feel like it. It felt like you longed to see him.

“You’re lying.”

You were ripped out of your thoughts by his statement. You shook your head defensively.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You opened your mouth to argue back, but he spoke first.

“If it was a clear ‘yes’ you wouldn’t have to think about it. I know you better than you think, y/n.”

He repositioned himself so he could look right at you.

“Come on, ask me anything about yourself and I’ll tell you.”

You looked briefly at your wristwatch.

“I don’t know, maybe I should leave.”

“Just give me a chance, y/n.”

He said.

“If I don’t get it right I’ll let you leave.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, but still turning more towards him, accepting his offer.

“What’s my mothers name?”

You asked. He gave you a knowing look.

“Come on, that’s easy. Give me something that isn’t on Google.”

You let out a small laugh.

“You didn’t say her name though.”

“Christina, now give me something good. Something deep.”

You smiled, but had to think for a second.

“When did I loose my virginity?”

His smile turned to a smirk.

“You were 16 at Mae’s birthday party. You were drinking, and her boyfriend August hit on you. He took you to her bed and fucked you right there. No wonder Mae isn’t your friend anymore. You’re a bitch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. Deep down it was scary that he knew something so intimate in great detail, but for some reason you were having fun with his little game.

“Ok ok. But now it’s your turn, when did you loose your virginity?”

He let out a nervous laugh at your question.

“This quiz isn’t about me.”

He stated and pulled his hand through his hair. You tilted your head slightly downwards and looked at him through your lashes and with a pout.

“I think it’s only fair that I know your story, since you know mine so well.”

He smiled at you, but looked away for a few seconds. Contemplating if he should tell you or not. When you saw him shy away, you suddenly felt as if you were digging into something he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You said, and placed your hand on top of his. Your fun voice was toned down to your regular speech again.

“No, I’ll share it. No worries.”

He said and looked back to you. You nodded and turned completely towards him. Crossing your legs and resting your arm on the backrest of the sofa, ready to hear his story.

“My first time was around one and a half year ago, in your office, with the girl of my dreams.”

He said dead serious. You snickered at him, thinking he was joking. But he didn’t laugh.

“You can’t be serious.”

You stated, he nodded proudly.

“Why wouldn’t I be, like I said you’re my dream girl. Why would I waste my time on others when the only one I want is you?”

He asked rhetorically. You crossed your eyebrows in confusion.

“You’ve never had sex? Ever?”

You asked in shock. His image did not fit the virgin title whatsoever.

“Once. With you.”

You smiled, but shook your head in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. You probably have girls throw themselves at you.”

His hand found your knee again. This time it was placed a little further up.

“The only one I want is you. I waited for you because I knew you would be worth it. Because I love you.”

He said in a low tone, slightly stroking the inside of your thigh. The two of you were close, so close that you were aware of the proximity. The tension in the air got thicker and thicker from the power of his last words. His face started moving slowly towards you, and you gave in. Meeting his lips. The kiss started slow, but he was quick to rush it. Grabbing your neck to deepen the kiss. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what you were doing, and pulled away.

“We can’t do this.”

You simply said. Focusing on your hands on your lap. His hand went to push a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Why?”

He didn’t sound angry or impatient. He sounded like he cared. It was so much different from the first time the two of you shared a moment like that. He had really changed, and that was the problem.

“I’m not your patient anymore, y/n. I don’t want anything from you.”

You looked up at him again, and he caressed your face in a loving matter.

“Except for you of course.”

His face got closer again, but this time you didn’t kiss him. You abruptly got up from the sofa, and opted for looking down at him instead. You took a deep breath.

“You’re not doing anything wrong by having sex with me. Again, I’m not your patient.”

He said a little bit louder, trying to calm you down.

“I can’t have sex with you because I’ll fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You had been in denial this entire time, but you knew yourself. This would not end well. You couldn’t bare to fall in love with someone that would ruin your image and reputation. You just couldn’t. He looked at you like you were some kind of god. Like all his wishes were finally answered.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

He asked, you shook your head.

“I can’t let that happen, Jungkook. It’s going to ruin my career.”

You sat back down, leaning your elbows on your thighs and your head in your hands.

“I have done nothing but help your career. Why can’t you just trust me?”

He put his hand on your back, stroking you lightly. You looked at him again.

“Please, trust me y/n.”

Fuck it, you thought, before you caught him off guard with your forceful kiss. He was quick to get the memo, kissing you back with the same hastiness and lust. You found your way onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Once you were straddling him, you felt his already hard cock grinding against you. He was desperate for you. A muffled groan escaped his lips when your hand went down to remove his belt.

“Wait.”

He said as he pulled away from you. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were wet and plump.

“Let me taste you.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. His whole aura was so different from the needy rough man you remembered from the last time.

“Please.”

You got off his lap, taking your top off slowly. Watching him as his face turned in awe of the sight of your tits. His eyes were only on you as you shimmied out of your skirt, letting it pool on the floor. You laid down on the sofa, spreading your legs for him. He quickly removed his shirt, before getting on his stomach. His hand ran slowly down your abdomen, before he reached your slit. He split your lips with the same hand, before he dove right into you. You could tell he was inexperienced, but the rapid use of tongue on your clit sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. You let out extra pound moans whenever he would hit a good spot, and luckily he was a quick learner.

Once he had the hang of it, his hand moved down to your vagina, pushing two fingers in. Your back arched at the speed of the overstimulation. Feeling your orgasm approach quicker than usual. You grabbed his hair, pushing him deeper into you, preparing for your release.

“Don’t stop, Jungkook! I’m close.”

He moaned by your words, the vibrations making you tip over the edge. Your legs closed in on him, locking him in place. As you rode out your high. Once you had calmed down, you let go of his hair. And his face popped up from between your legs. He climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. You tasted yourself on his lips.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

He said in between kisses and moans.

“I almost came just from eating you out.”

He started fiddling with his belt, but you stopped him. Placing a hand on his chest carefully.

“Let me.”

You simply said, before he moved off you. He sat down again, and you crawled onto the floor. Seating yourself between his legs. You looked up at him as your hands slowly traveled up his thighs. He was even more flushed now, his hair sticking to his forehead. You could tell he was impatient. Flicking his eyes between your hands and your eyes.

“Please, y/n.”

He uttered with a heavy breath. You smirked up at him, finally reaching his belt. You took your time with it as well. Once it was open, he was quick to pull down his pants and underwear. Letting his cock spring free. You got on top of him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. He jerked up the second he felt your pussy on him. His thick cock stretched your walls out, and a moan escaped both your lips.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you this time.”

You said in a low voice, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands went straight to your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze. You kissed him gently before you started riding him. His head fell back in pleasure once you started your movements. Bouncing up and down his cock. His hands dug deeper into your skin. He filled you to the brim, and every bounce felt amazing.

“Fuck! I’m not- gonna last long.”

He moaned and looked back at you. You then leaned your hands backwards onto his thighs. Your head fell slightly back as you moaned at the new angle.

“Y/n, slow down!”

He moaned as his hands moved to your thighs. Trying halfheartedly to stop you. But you didn’t stop. And suddenly you felt him coming inside you. His hips lifted you up, as he released himself. And when you felt like he was finished you stopped. You rapped your hands around his shoulders as you fell onto his chest. The room got quiet, the only sound being your heavy breathing.

You weren’t able to think about the consequences of your actions at that point. You only felt satisfaction and lust. And maybe even love…

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[libraford]

msbriket You know how they say us autistics see every detail? I just think a lot of people forget what's not important to them personally. What she's really saying is: why won't you let me ignore your wishes like last time so I can forget about them again?

You know, even before I started seeing autistic traits in myself I was confused why autism had such a negative association to it because like:

"takes things literally" is more like... trusting people at their word. Trying to follow instructions accurately. Remembers promises made.

"lacking in certain social tacts" - does their best to speak clearly and concisely. Tries to avoid being misunderstood because they would want the same for themselves.

"doesn't like breaking rules" - rules that are there for our safety are in our best interest to follow!

"has difficulty with changes in routine" - doesn't like being lied to or misguided. Would like instruction to be clear.

Which I have always perceived to be good things. "Concerned about fairness." "Strong moral compass."

Those are good things to have. In fact, you WANT a person like that in most workplaces. A person who tries to follow instructions and remembers things, who tries to speak clearly and truthfully, who understands the rules and asks for confirmations, who tries to make sure things are fair and accessible? Honestly, sounds great.

The problem is that the corporate world is all about lying and placating and bargaining and making false promises and hoping that they'll forget.

And then there's The Gender. Which is another layer of bull. Because the specialist in my field that infodumps during training and lacks tactful criticism techniques in a long unbroken tone is the best in the business, but I get lectured on my tone and body language. He's allowed to talk endlessly on the topic. I'm not allowed to ask questions or request clarification.

That, and some people only really know autism in its forms of nonverbiality, emotional disregulation, and motor control which require assistance and not like... an entire Golden Corral of traits that include those things and more.

Yadda yadda, neurotypicality is a 3 apples 5 apples situation.

[elusive---ivory]

Could you possibly write a yandere villain x soft reader fic or headcanons?

Yandere!Villain x Soft!Reader

Omg!! my first request!!! Yes! I absolutely love soft reader so much!!

The Villain loses every time. He loses everything to the Hero of the story. Over and over again. He comes up with very elaborate schemes and evil plans that cannot fail, then the Hero foils his plans. He gets angry. 'How does the Hero do it?' he thinks to himself. The only thing keeping him from winning is the Hero in the end.

Obsessing over and over at what else would work. He goes into civilian life. That's when he finds you. A soft, quiet being who is handing out flyers from your workplace. The Villain doesn't notice you at first. He bumps into you, spilling your flyers everywhere. When the two of you lock eyes, it's like sparks go off in his evil little mind.

If the Hero always gets the girl, why can't the Villain get the girl too? The next time there's a high-stakes robbery, you are in his line of sight. He bolts towards you, shielding you from any damage. He's never sought to protect someone before. He's glad that person is you.

Whether you're oblivious or not, you notice things in Villain's behavior that might seem quite odd, but you grow to love those things about him. He complains a lot about the city, and he wants to improve himself. However, his set role as the Villain has him stuck in his ways.

But, he sees you as an exception. He's head over heels for your kind nature. It almost rubs off on him when you notice how kind he was being to a random stranger. His villainous ways were almost eradicated.

Until Hero got involved. The Hero didn't seem to approve of this sudden relationship. The Villain's tendencies started to creep through. He started plotting more ways to get rid of Hero for good. You became concerned for Villain's mental health. He had spent weeks planning a way to kill the Hero of the city. He had never gone that far in the past, but you were special to him. He needed to keep you safe, even if it meant getting rid of the savior of the story.