#receptionist au

[some-rotten-nest]

Danny Fenton, a new receptionist at Wayne Enterprises:

Vicky Vale, knowing Danny Is Not Ready for her: So, where does Bruce Wayne leave for during his meetings? A new woman? Man? Trouble in the family?

Danny "Town Menace Phantom" Fenton, done with Genderbent Wes Weston: To fuck your mom.

Bruce's experienced receptionist that left for 6 seconds: okay, Danny no--

Danny, who knows something's up with the Wayne family: and your Dad, because we support the LGBTQIA community. Thank you and leave.

[cannimochi]

gah more parkcivi doodles

i would post my emf one but i dont like how he look in that will draw again soon

i lovw my enemies to lovers doomed yaoi...

[hotluncheddie]

omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

-

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

[tautozhone]

deku gets a 9 to 5 this deku goes back to pro heroing this wrong deku begins taking support courses and eventually begins his own company based on assisting people with self destructive quirks to use them safely .

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 23

PREVIOUS

There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.

The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.

The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.

Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.

“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.

So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.

“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.

“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.

“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.

The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.

Wymack.

Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.

“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.

“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.

“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.

“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.

“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.

“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.

Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.

That stupid bet.

The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.

Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.

The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.

Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))

“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.

“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.

“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.

“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.

“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.

“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.

“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.

Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.

“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.

Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.

It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).

Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.

“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.

“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.

Andrew blinks.

“She’s coming here?” He asks.

“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.

He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.

“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.

Shorter one today

NEXT

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees  @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex​ @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​ @omgrubelangel​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[lulublack90]

Prompt 10 - Only One Bed/Room

@wolfstarmicrofic May 10, word count 860

Sirius and Remus had been sent away to a conference. They were to stay overnight and take notes of future implementations that could benefit the company. 

They didn’t know each other well, Remus only having been at the company for a month, but they got on well enough. Remus, Sirius had found, was a tough nut to crack. He didn’t like to give up personal information, and small talk didn’t come easily to him.  

Sirius pulled into the hotel's car park and turned off the engine. They got their bags out of the boot and headed to reception. 

“Okay, Mr Black. I’ve got you and Mr Lupin in room 210. There is a lift to your left or stairs to the right if you prefer. If you need anything else, there will be someone here at all times.” The smiley receptionist beamed at him with bright red lipstick coating her lips.

“Wait!” Remus exclaimed. “Why is there only one room?” He looked horrified. The smile had faltered a bit on the receptionist's face as she double-checked with her computer. “We were almost fully booked when your office booked in, you got the last room in fact.” She looked at Sirius with a worried look on her face. “Erm,” She paused, trying to find the words. “There’s only one bed in that room.” She flinched when Remus slammed his hand down on the desk. 

“Well that’s just peachy.” He growled. “Is there seriously nothing else?” She typed away on her keyboard. 

“No, Sir. We’re fully booked all weekend. 

“Let's at least go look at the room. You never know we might be able to make it work.” Sirius picked up Remus’s suitcase and purposefully walked towards the lift. Remus eventually followed once the doors pinged open. 

They stood in silence as the lift travelled the short journey between floors. Sirius fumbled with the key card and opened the door to their room. 

The bed was tiny. It was meant to be a double, but Sirius was certain it couldn’t be a standard one. There wasn’t even a sofa, just a metal chair.

“Nope,” Remus said and turned to leave. Sirius grabbed the back of his jumper before he could get very far. “Hey, let go!” 

“It’s only two nights,” Sirius said. “Do you really have that much of a problem sharing a bed with another man?”

“No, Sirius,” Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s just—Oh, never mind.” He stormed past Sirius and dumped his bag on the bed. That seemed to settle it. 

“Right well, I’m going for a quick shower and then do you want to go down to the restaurant?” He asked as he pulled out his toiletry bag. Remus just grunted, which Sirius took as a yes. 

Showered and feeling better after their long drive, Sirius emerged from the bathroom and found the room empty. He wandered down to the restaurant and found Remus sitting at the bar with a beer. He flagged down the bartender and asked for the same and another one for Remus. 

Dinner was quiet. Remus barely said two words, but at least the food was good. After another beer apiece, Sirius was ready for bed. 

“I’m off up,” he yawned. Remus seemed reluctant to leave the bar. 

“I’ll finish this and come up.” He told Sirius. That works out fine, Sirius thought. At least that way he could get ready for bed and not feel awkward about it. He brushed his teeth, changed into his baggy lounge pants and got under the covers. 

The bed may be small, but it was ridiculously comfortable. Sirius snuggled into the plump pillows and felt his eyes already drifting shut. Then there was a loud knock at the door, which yanked him from his dozing state. He got out of bed and opened the door. They’d only been given one key card.

Remus stood there and gaped at Sirius. Sirius had a myriad of tattoos on his body and Remus’s eyes darted across the visible ones. He groaned and darted past Sirius, locking himself in the bathroom. 

“Do you want your bag?” Sirius asked through the door.

“Yes please,” Remus replied, his voice slightly higher than usual. He opened the door wide enough to snatch the bag from Sirius’s hand. “Put a t-shirt on, for crying out loud.” He snapped before slamming the door in Sirius’s face. Sirius had no idea what he’d done to piss Remus off, but he went and grabbed a t-shirt from his bag and slipped it over his head before he got back into bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn’t even hear Remus leave the bathroom. 

The next morning, he woke half on top of Remus with his limbs tangled with the other man's. He carefully tried to disentangle himself without waking Remus, but those honey eyes met his with a scowl. Sirius swallowed. 

“Sorry, I must have rolled in my sleep,” Remus didn’t say anything and got out of bed before locking himself in the bathroom again. 

This was going to be a long weekend, and they still had another night to go.  

Part two

[solusminds]

Get backroomed idiot

[bowflare]

I'm slowly making my way through all background and minor characters with a random spin wheel!

Here are my advancetale ideas for rabbit kid, diamond receptionist, elder puzzler, and greater dog!

[luxurysystems]

Hi lux, sorry this is so out of nowhere....! I was listening to some tunes the other day and heard the song Gonna Serve Somebody by Bob Dylan... it was giving me major vice city au energy, just big money inc vibes in general, thought u might get some ideers from it :3c mwah

This is the song that plays when Ted finds out that Irwin is sent to kill him.

Playing off of this.

Ted knows he's fucked if he allows the week to go by without doing anything. He paces around his penthouse suite...god, fuck, his old employer is not fucking around if he sent him...

Ted gets a taste of what's to come. An off-white Sentinel XS is seen as soon as Ted gets up in the morning. It's parked in the same spot, windows are tinted, and it leaves at around 8 a.m. Rain or shine— it doesn't matter.

Ted feels the paranoia set in when he leaves his place each morning to head to the Colonel's yacht. He's heard of the guy, sure, but Ted finds himself looking over his shoulder one too many times for it to just be a gut feeling gone awry. It has to be...that guy.

Think, man, think!! You've gotten *this* far without any problems...

He hates the feeling of eyes on him, and there's four of them beaming in his direction.

One day, Ted catches his would-be killer mess up. Ted spots him getting out of his car and heading into the V.A.J Finance building. Good looking guy, tall, glasses, suspenders? What the hell... no matter, Ted's gets a visual, a location...time to work the charm, and fast.

"Well if this big goon is swayed by money, I can do one better." Ted thinks as he picks out a Rolex at the Vice Point jewelers.

One day, and one day soon, Ted will pay that overgrown accountant a visit and place that Rolex on his desk. If he thinks that Ted scares easily, the expensive watch says otherwise. That accountant will either have to kill him or serve him by the end of the week...

Fingers crossed for the latter...

[andromedasummer]

you know the market is fucked when youre told the number of people who applied to this job through the site youre using alone and youre one of 300+ nearly every time

[cannimochi]

i couldnt choose weather to post the version with emf in black or white line art so you guys are getting both !!! and as promised more seaster art :) i love to doodle some cuddles

[lonelyslutavatar]

big soft guy who stutters a lot...

rugged nerd who is probably a pervert....

MARTIN AND JON????

[livejournallegacy]

thursday on the cover of alternative press ('02, '03, '04, '09)

[morsmortish]

share the bartybella office au thoughts to your legion of devoted fans 🙏

oh the bartybella office au thoughts run DEEP. it feels like everytime i think of them my brain drifts over to picturing barty, dressed in an unironed white shirt and rumpled navy suit trousers, draped over the side of bella’s cubicle, trying to be Smooth And Suave until she almost successfully manages to staple his fingers together and sends him toppling to the floor in a panicked escape, whilst she laughs in her typical maniacal way. the first post about this au is here, but it’s taken much more shape since then.

i’m thinking about them at an office christmas party…bella is in a black (VERY LOW CUT!!!) evening dress with a slit all the way up her leg and pointy heels and diamond earrings and thick eyeliner and she just looks so fucking great. and then there’s barty. who rocks up in his battered old toyota forty minutes late in a pair of ripped jeans that are more hole than fabric and a tattered old heavy metal band shirt that has a stain from 2016 on it. bella takes one look at him as he stands awkwardly in the doorway, all gangly limbs, and marches over, dragging him by the ear to the bathroom where she proceeds to yell at him for his lack of formal attire and Repeatedly Maims Him with the plastic cutlery she had just moments ago been using to eat the trifle brought by molly weasley. he’s trying to shield his face from her lethal use of the spoon, but he’s also grinning and continuously making remarks that are fully intended to Rile Her Up because this sick twisted weirdo of a man is somehow enjoying himself FAR too much. (bella is also having a blast and she hates it because how has this sleazeball of a human being barely out of his teenage years managed to become one of the best parts of her job????)

i know i said in my last post that nothing would ever actually happen between them, but barty fucking junior is a stubborn little shit and if he wants to seduce his hot much older supervisor? he will seduce his hot much older supervisor, and nothing i say will be able to stop him. barty has his nepotism-hire internship for a year and even his most valiant attempts (terrible pick up lines and making his teams profile picture an ab pic) aren’t be enough for bella to stoop that low, but after? when they meet again, somewhere, somehow? you can bet she is finally caving into her desire to be worshipped by him. and then there’s something addictive about the way he makes her feel like the most important person in the world, the way she knows he is at her beck and call, the way she finally gets to experience what power feels like. and she can’t give him up after that, even if there was any world in which he would let her go.

[jtl-fics]

Unused Memes for Part 25 of FF

[softquietsteadylove]

A spicy request for Receptionist AU, where Thena gets back at Gil after what he put her through in the last fic 🙈🙈

"Naekkeo," Gil murmurs as he peeks down his nose to button his dress shirt. "I'm gonna be ready in maybe ten minutes--do you want a ride to work?"

"That's okay, love, I'm not quite ready yet, you go ahead without me."

"Well, I-" Gil doesn't get to finish that thought, his jaw hanging open as Thena comes back into the bedroom from the bathroom. His eyes follow her as she walks over to the closet, taking her time looking at her half of it with her hands on her hips. Gil clears his throat, "uh, sweetie?"

"Hm?" she peeks at him over her shoulder.

Gil loses track of which button he's buttoning. He's actually got a very important meeting this morning with some representatives from a bank back home. He's been working to get an office set up here in London so Thena can be home more.

"Gil?" Thena smiles at him, and the devil woman knows exactly what she's doing when she turns to face him. Her smirk says it all as she saunters over to him and reaches to resume his buttoning. "Remember you have a meeting with the branch manager for Jasmine National."

Gilgamesh is too busy soaking in his partner's soaking body. Okay, it's not soaking wet, but she's still got some dewdrops from the shower still on her completely bare skin, as well as her damp hair sitting on her shoulders. Not long enough to cover her breasts, though.

"Are you listening?"

"You know I'm not," he growls at her, reaching up to grasp her wrists while she tries to straighten his collar. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Sending you off," she responds oh-so innocently. She even flutters her lashes as she shifts her weight, cocking out one hip.

"And this?" he makes a point of asking, drawing his eyes up her legs, freshly shaven and moisturized, to the slope of her waist and the bend of her ribs and her breasts which haunt his dreams.

"Gilgamesh please," she purrs (minx). "It's hardly something to bat an eye at, you have seen me like this plenty by now."

She says it like she's come home after getting her hair trimmed, not standing in front of him, her body beckoning, all but literally oiled up for him!

She tries to step away but he holds onto her--not too tight but he doesn't let her escape his grasp. He eyes all his favourite parts of her. "What's this for?"

Thena merely raises her brows at him, obviously in the mood for some retribution. "Perhaps you should think about this next time you want to take a business call in the middle of an affair."

He scoffs, stepping closer, happily letting her dampness ruin the fresh press of his shirt. "That, again?"

She matches his glaring, pressing herself against him, "you pulled out."

Thena hates being interrupted.

"Sorry, Gongjunim," he leans in but she makes him kiss her cheek before her lips. He obeys, trailing his lips over her cheek reverently. "I won't make you wait again."

"Your meeting," she reminds him, as if either of them really believe he's going to still go to that.

"No fuckin' way," he growls against her throat, sliding his arm around her waist and grasping a handful of ass.

"Gil," she attempts to sound scolding but he hoists her up in his arms and twists them backwards onto the bed. "This is a very important - ah! - meeting."

It's damn important, and he's already late to be early and have the upper hand in negotiating his terms, now. So, instead, he's going to keep kissing his girlfriend. He tangles their tongues and lays himself over her.

"You should go," she urges him again, although her nails are dug into his shoulders from behind as she wraps her legs around him.

"Like hell," he snarls, lining himself up with her in record time. He pushes in with practised and mastered patience though. "This was your plan to seduce me?"

"It seems to have worked," she grins at him as well, although her breathing becomes thinner as he pushes into her completely. Her hips raise off the bed to meet his.

"I keep telling you," he rumbles against the hollow of her throat, fucking her like a beast following a base desire. His hips do all the thinking for him. "You've been doing that for years."

"Hm," Thena purrs, and he can practically feel it ripple through him. "So I could have just gone into your office and asked you to take me on your desk?"

Gil grunts, picking up speed at the tantalising mental image. Thena really has a thing for enticing him into illicit activities in the office. "A man can dream, Thena."

"I would have," she huffs at him, although both of them are panting for breath, "if I thought it would work."

He growls, letting it reverberate into her as their lips smash together. "You had me the first time you ever wore that skirt with the cardigan I like."

He does love that particular outfit, and there's something particularly endearing - almost wholesome - about him being so seduced by a cardigan sweater and a skirt that extended past her knees.

"I would have walked in," she continues to tease him as he works them towards conclusion. She digs her nails into him more, "bent over and let you guess if I'm wearing panties or not."

"Fuck!" Gil pulls one of her legs up so he can hold it against his chest as he pounds into her, "don't say shit you don't mean, baby!"

"Gil!" she whines in response, their hips slapping together loudly and sloppily. "Fuck, right there, yes!"

"Shit honey," Gil grits his teeth. "You're gonna do that."

"Oh, rea--Gil!" Thena throws her head back as she comes first, her hips rising and swivelling in the air as they ground together.

Gil holds her thigh tight, grinding his hips against hers at a twisted angle. Their hair meets, he can feel the softness of her skin. He can see a very gratuitous angle of her breasts as well as where they're joined. It makes him want to beat on his chest like a caveman.

Thena groans as he lets her leg down, lying limply in the mess of their bed. "Well, now you're unforgivably late."

Gil lets out a loud belly laugh, and it drags her into laughing with him too. He flops into bed next to her, his shirt completely damp and still hanging out of his suit pants fly. "Honey, you knew I wasn't going to make that meeting as soon as you came in here."

Thena also laughs in their ecstasy, lying on her back with him, their heads close enough to hear each other's breathing. "Well, perhaps you shouldn't relegate fucking me in importance."

"Hey," he rolls over to give her a quick kiss, "nothing is more important than making love to you."

Thena sighs into the kiss, even following his lips as he pulls himself up, "oh, really?"

"Yep," he grins. She glares as him as he reaches for his trousers zip but all he does is shimmy out of them completely. "I'll tell 'em an emergency came up. Apparently I have to pamper my partner a little more."

"Hm," she raises a brow as he tosses aside his clothes in a rush like a horny frat boy. But she receives him with just as much glee as he throws himself into her breasts.

"I told you," he presses right into the valley of her cleavage. "Nothing more important."