#white leather swivel chair

[heidivanderlee]

Built-In Home Office Study room - mid-sized cottage built-in desk painted wood floor and gray floor study room idea with white walls and no fireplace

[noisett-e]

Los Angeles Living Room

An illustration of a sizable, modern, enclosed living room with a media wall and beige walls.

[romerocarley]

Contemporary Basement Philadelphia Inspiration for a sizable contemporary walk-out basement renovation with gray walls, a traditional fireplace, and a concrete fireplace

[anonslittlehelper]

Enclosed Family Room Los Angeles Mid-sized transitional enclosed light wood floor family room design example with white walls, a regular fireplace, a stone fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[kalyanamfurniture]

Island Fabric Armchair

The Island Armchair showcases an elegant look and offers the utmost comfort with its soft fabric making it perfect to lounge on and relax after a long day of work.

Furniture bought on Kalyanamfurniture.com comes with a 1 Year Warranty against any manufacturing defects. So go ahead and buy with confidence. And be a part of our Family

[izuminokamiis]

Boston Transitional Family Room

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Tiktok Influencer!Gojo Satoru—“She’s a 10 but…” [nxt]

@ sexygojosatoru has made a new post:

“she’s a 10 but…” challenge w/ my students :D (ft. nanamin) #fyp

00:03 =⬤--------------------------- 04:14 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[The video opens with a hand pulling back from the camera to reveal Gojo in the frame. He’s lounging in a cream cable-knit sweater, his signature black circular glasses perched low on his nose. His sky-blue eyes gleam mischievously as he leans closer to the lens, a playful grin stretching across his face. His snowy hair, slightly tousled, flops over his forehead until he sweeps it back with a flick of his pale fingers.]

Gojo: (whispering) “Gojo here! So, today, I’m doing the ‘She’s a 10 but…’ challenge with my adorable students. I plan to stir the pot and, maybe, start a little drama. You know, the usual. Let’s go!”

[The camera cuts abruptly to Yuji’s dorm room. Yuji sits at his desk in front of his PC, wearing a baggy white tee and a chunky blue headset with cat ears. He swivels to face the camera, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion. Nobara and Megumi’s voices chatter faintly in the background.]

Gojo: “Yuji, my sweet boy, ‘She’s a 10 but… she has a flat ass.’”

Yuji: “Sensei—wha—wait, what?”

[Cut to Yuji again, this time with his headset slung around his neck and his gamer chair spun fully toward the camera.]

Gojo: “—et it?”

Yuji: (grinning, earnest) “Got it! Hi, guys! If she’s a 10 and she’s got a small butt, she’s still a 10. Personality matters more!”

[He throws up an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Gojo groans exaggeratedly.]

Gojo: “Let’s try this again. ‘He’s a 10 but… he hates the Human Earthworm series’.”

[Yuji pauses, scratching his chin as he furrows his brows, clearly torn.]

Yuji: “Hmm… then he’s, like, an 8? I’d be lowkey hurt, but hey, people have different tastes, so I guess I can’t get too mad about it.”

Gojo: “Boooring! Yuji, you’re too pure. This is terrible content. NEXT!”

[The camera swings over to Nobara, who’s striking a pose with one hand on her hip. She’s wearing a plum long-sleeved shirt and flashes a peace sign with a sly grin.]

Gojo: “Nobara! Save me from Yuji’s snoozefest. ‘She’s a 10 but… she’s domineering.’”

Nobara: “Domineering? Like bossy? Assertive?”

Gojo: “Exactly! Dominatrix vibes—minus the leather and whips.”

[Nobara raises an eyebrow, her cheeks faintly pink.]

Nobara: “Still a 10. No shame in a strong woman.”

Gojo: “veery interesting. Okay, ‘He’s a 10 but he’s a hardcore tsundere.’”

[Nobara’s playful grin melts into a grimace.]

Nobara: “Ugh, no. That type of trope is so annoying. Just say you like me already and stop wasting my time. That’s a 4.”

[The camera zooms dramatically to Megumi, lounging on Yuji’s bed with his phone. He glances up, unimpressed, then back at the screen. Gojo lets out a snicker before turning the camera back to Nobara.]

Gojo: “‘He’s a 10 but he’s an eater.””

[Nobara’s face scrunches.]

Nobara: “Oh, Gojo, that's not—CUT!”

[The camera cuts back to Nobara, laughing uncontrollably.]

Gojo: “‘—uck. I meant, ‘He’s a 10 but he ingests questionable things—like he’ll put just about anything in his mouth.””

Nobara:“Wait—like, eats anything? Oh, ew! Yuji vibes. That’s a 1.”

Yuji: (off-screen) “HEY!”

Gojo: “In Yuji’s defense, he has a reason! It’s not like he’s on My Strange Addiction munching on soap.”

Nobara: (deadpan) “Sensei, that’s rich coming from someone whose best friend swallowed ba—”

[The camera cuts abruptly to Megumi, now glaring daggers at Gojo.]

Gojo: “MOVING ON! Say hi to the fans, Megumi. They keep asking if you’re single.”

Megumi: (dry) “Pay me for these features.”

Gojo: “There’s that tsundere charm! ‘She’s a 10 but she interrupts you constantly.’”

Megumi: (flatly) “4. Maybe a 6 if she knows when to stop.”

[The camera swings back to Nobara.]

Gojo (sing-song): “Nobara’s a 4~!”

[Nobara lunges at Gojo, snatching the camera to turn it on him.]

Nobara: ”‘He’s a 10 but he’s like 30 years old, lives off sweets, and takes mirror selfies daily.’”

Yuji: (off-screen) “DRAG HIM!”

Megumi: (smirking) “1.”

[Gojo gasps theatrically and grabs the camera back.]

Gojo: “Betrayed by my own students! No soba for dinner!”

Yuji and Nobara: (wailing) “NOOO!”

Megumi: (shrugging) “It’s not like I said 0, could’ve been worse Gojo-Sensei.”

[The camera sweeps across the room: Nobara stands with her fingers clasped in a dramatic pleading gesture, while Yuji has collapsed to his knees, wailing theatrically. Megumi stands nearby with arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as if to question everyone’s sanity. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the faint creak of a door interrupts the chaos.]

Nanami: (off-screen) “What’s going on in here?”

[The camera turns to reveal Nanami standing in the doorway, tie slightly loosened.]

Gojo: (grinning ear to ear) “Perfect timing, Nanamin! We’re doing the ‘She’s a 10 but…’ challenge. Your turn!”

Nanami: (deadpan) “If I play along, will you stop asking me to hang out this weekend?”

Gojo: (mock serious) “Deal.”

[Text appears on-screen: “I lied LOL had my toes crossed XD”]

Gojo: (gleefully) “Alright, Nanamin, first question: ‘She’s a 10 but she corrects your grammar.’”

Nanami: (calmly) “A 10. Grammar is important.”

Gojo: “Ugh, buzzkill. Okay, ‘She’s a 10 but she won’t go down on you.’”

Nanami: (stone-faced) “Still a 10. Boundaries matter.”

[Gojo spins the camera toward himself, pouting dramatically.]

Gojo: (to the camera) “This video is flopping! Okay, last one, Grandpa: ‘He’s a 10 but he’s taller and stronger than you.’”

Nanami: (without hesitation) “Still a 10. I’m secure enough in myself to not feel threatened by someone else’s physical attributes.”

Gojo: (waving the camera back to himself) “You guys heard it here first! Nanamin’s totally into me.”

[He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows and delivering a cheesy wink at the lens.]

Gojo: (teasing) “I mean, who can resist my—”

[A collective groan erupts from the students off-screen. The camera shakes, suggesting a struggle, before cutting abruptly to black.]

04:14 =================⬤ 04:14 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[bassmars]

submissive! neuvillette x gender neutral reader.

it’s been so long but I am back, I still love neuvillette. Matter in fact I got him a hydro goblet with 35 crit dmg I know I know…. Be jealous.

No proof read sorry if this is all messed up, wrote this pretty late too.. I might start posting more but who should I write about?

—————

Justice served hot

Sub! Neuvillette nsfw.

warnings: semi-public setting, mild exhibitionism, oral sex, penetrative sex (reader can either have a dick or like a strap on I tried)

"Not now, Y/N," Neuvillette murmured, his eyes never leaving the mountain of paperwork that had piled up on his desk. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cluttered room, the only sound being the scratch of his quill against parchment. Y/N, ever the persistent one, leaned against the heavy oak doorframe, arms folded across their chest. Their eyes, filled with a mix of longing and mischief, scanned the room for any signs of weakness.

Neuvillette's desk was a battlefield of legal documents, ink stains spreading like spilled wine across the once pristine surface. The scent of parchment and candle wax filled the air, a stark contrast to the faint hint of incense that usually lingered in the hallways outside. The judge's white hair was slightly disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through it in frustration, and the blue underside of his single strand was vivid against his pale skin. His pointed ears twitched slightly as Y/N's footsteps grew closer, the quiet thud of boots on the cold stone floor echoing in the vast chamber.

"Comeee onnnnn," Y/N whined, their voice a sweet symphony of seduction, "You've been buried in this stuff for hours." They stepped closer, the leather of their corset creaking faintly. "We haven't had any...quality time in so long."

Neuvillette sighed, setting down his quill with a delicate clink. He rubbed his eyes with his gloved hand, the blue fabric stretching over his knuckles. "You know how important this is," he said, his voice strained. "The fate of Fontaine is literally in my hands."

Y/N pouted, their eyes scanning the room as they approached the desk. They leaned over, their chest brushing against the papers, and whispered into Neuvillette's ear, "I know, but so is my happiness." Their breath was warm, sending a shiver down the judge's spine.

Neuvillette swiveled his chair to face Y/N, his gaze dropping to their mouth. "And what would make you happy right now?" His voice was low, a challenge wrapped in velvet.

Y/N smirked, their hand sliding down to graze the bulge in Neuvillette's trousers. "Well," they murmured, "since you're already sitting..." They knelt down, pushing aside the chair slightly, and flipped the desk's edge up, giving them the perfect access.

Neuvillette's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. He looked over his shoulder at the door, then back at Y/N. "Here? Now?" His voice was a mix of surprise and arousal.

Y/N nodded, their grin growing wider. "Why not?" They leaned in, capturing Neuvillette's bottom lip in a teasing nip. "It's not like anyone's going to walk in, right?"

Neuvillette's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, his pointy ears turning a darker shade of red. He glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking sound suddenly very loud in the quiet room. "Almost time for the next session," he murmured, trying to regain his composure.

Y/N's pout grew more pronounced, their eyes shimmering with a hint of desperation. "Are you really going to leave me like this?" They whispered, their hand still playing with the fabric of his trousers.

Neuvillette sighed, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. "I have to, Y/N. You know how much is on the line for these cases." He began to stand up, but Y/N's grip tightened, their eyes pleading.

"C'mon," Y/N whined, their voice a siren's call, "Just a quickie, before you go." They leaned in closer, their breath hot against Neuvillette's neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

The judge's resolve wavered, the temptation of a passionate encounter with Y/N almost too much to resist. But he knew he couldn't. "No," he said firmly, pushing back his chair, "We can't." He gently but insistently removed Y/N's hand from his crotch and stood up, straightening his robes.

Y/N pouted even more, their eyes glinting with a hint of annoyance. "You're no fun," they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

Neuvillette chuckled despite himself, reaching out to stroke their cheek with his gloved hand. "I know," he said, "but duty calls." He turned and made his way to the courtroom, the heavy doors looming before him like a final boss in a video game.

Y/N trailed after him, their steps echoing down the hallway. "Fine," they said with a dramatic sigh, "but I'm coming with you."

Neuvillette rolled his eyes but didn't protest. He knew Y/N well enough to know that once they had their mind set on something, there was no changing it. They arrived at the grand courtroom, the air thick with the anticipation of the looming proceedings. The room was eerily empty, the wooden benches untouched by the usual bustle of plaintiffs and defendants.

"Well, this is odd," Neuvillette murmured, checking his pocket watch. "We're not supposed to start for another half an hour."

Y/N snickered, their mood lightening at the sight of the empty room. "Maybe the universe is giving us a little gift," they said, wagging their eyebrows suggestively.

Neuvillette couldn't help but laugh. "Or maybe it's just another one of your jinxes," he teased, pushing the door open with a squeak.

The judge stepped inside, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. The high ceilings, adorned with frescoes of ancient battles and legal triumphs, seemed to watch over them like disapproving parents. Y/N followed, their boots clicking against the marble floor.

"Come on," Y/N whispered, sidling up to Neuvillette, "at least give me a kiss. It's been ages."

Neuvillette's resolve was waning, the heat of their earlier encounter still simmering between them. He leaned down, their lips meeting in a soft, chaste kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. But Y/N wasn't satisfied with just a peck. They grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Their tongues danced together, a silent conversation filled with longing and desire. Y/N's hands roamed down to Neuvillette's waist, fumbling with the knot of his sash. They pushed him backward, the large judge's chair looming behind him like a throne. With a grunt, Neuvillette gave in, his body weight carrying him backward into the plush velvet embrace of the chair.

Y/N's eyes sparkled with triumph as they sank to their knees in front of the chair.

Neuvillette's cock, now free from its confines, stood proud and demanding. Veins bulged with anticipation, tracing a map of pleasure along its length, and the underside was particularly sensitive to the touch, a fact that Y/N knew all too well.

As Y/N leaned in, Neuvillette's hips jerked involuntarily, his hand shooting up to grab a fistful of their hair. He gripped it tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back the moan that threatened to escape his lips. The sensation of Y/N's warm breath against his cock was almost too much, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep from crying out.

Y/N, ever the eager participant, took the hint and wrapped their lips around the tip, teasing the slit with their tongue. Neuvillette's grip on their hair tightened, his legs spreading wider as he pushed his hips up slightly to meet their mouth. The feeling of their tongue flicking against his most sensitive spot sent a shiver down his spine, making his toes curl in his boots.

Y/N took him in deeper, their cheeks hollowing as they sucked hard. The sound of wetness filled the quiet courtroom, the only other noise the occasional crackle of the candles that lined the walls. They could feel the judge's thighs trembling, his gloved hands clutching their head, guiding them deeper. The taste of his precum was sweet on their tongue, a promise of the release to come.

Neuvillette's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he fought to keep his composure. He knew that Y/N was a master at this, that they could make him cum in seconds if they wanted to, but he was trying to hold out. The anticipation was part of the thrill, the knowledge that they were about to be caught up in something so deliciously scandalous in the very heart of Fontaine's legal system.

But it was a battle he was quickly losing. The way Y/N's mouth moved, the pressure and rhythm, it was all too much. His hips began to buck, his hand moving to the armrest of the chair to keep from toppling over. He could feel the orgasm building, a storm brewing in his core, threatening to spill over at any moment.

And just as he was about to let go, the doors to the courtroom swung open, the sound echoing through the room like a gavel's final blow.

Y/N and Neuvillette froze, the latter's eyes shooting wide open as a parade of officials and assistants began to file in, their murmurs of greeting and shuffling of papers a stark contrast to the silence that had been moments before. Y/N, ever the quick thinker, ducked under the desk, their heart racing. Neuvillette's cock, still wet from Y/N's eager mouth, twitched in response to the sudden cold air.

The judge took a deep breath, willing his body to behave as he forced himself to sit up straight, the chair creaking ominously beneath him. He smoothed his robes down, trying to look as dignified as possible despite the raging hard-on he was trying to hide. The room grew louder as more people filled in, taking their seats, arranging their notes. Neuvillette could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, a blush that was hopefully just from the exertion and not the embarrassment of being caught.

Y/N, hidden from view, couldn't help but let out a stifled giggle, the sound muffled by the fabric of Neuvillette's robes. The judge shot them a glare, his hand shooting down to grip the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white.

"Thank you all for being here today," Neuvillette began, his voice a little shakier than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself as he continued, "We have a very important case to discuss." His eyes darted around the room, looking for any signs of suspicion. The attendees nodded and murmured in response, none the wiser to the scandalous scene playing out just out of their line of sight.

Y/N, unable to resist the temptation, leaned back in and took him in their mouth again, their hands moving to stroke the base of his cock. Neuvillette's eyes rolled back in his head, his grip on the desk tightening as he bit down on his knuckle to keep from moaning. The room was a blur, the faces of the officials swimming before his eyes as he tried to focus on the case at hand.

With a Herculean effort, Neuvillette pulled Y/N's head back, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin just before they were fully extracted. "Not now," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. Y/N pouted but obeyed— for now, sitting back on their heels and watching him with hungry eyes.

Neuvillette took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to compose himself. He couldn't very well start the session with a raging erection, now could he? He shuffled his papers, hoping that the rustling would cover the sound of his racing heart. The room had filled up, the murmur of conversation growing louder as the minutes ticked by. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of anticipation for the upcoming case and the unspoken tension between the two lovers.

He took his seat at the bench, adjusting his robes to try and hide his arousal. The first case was brought before him, a dull roar of words that barely registered as he tried to focus. His eyes scanned the pages before him, but the words swam together like ink in water. The pressure of Y/N's mouth was still imprinted on his cock, the ghost of their touch driving him wild. He could feel the wetness of their saliva slowly drying, leaving his skin feeling tight and sensitive.

As the prosecutor began their opening statement, Neuvillette's hand strayed to his mouth, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to keep from groaning. The pressure grew, his cock throbbing with the need for release. He glanced down, trying to be subtle, and found that Y/N's hand had slipped into his lap, their fingers tracing lazy circles around the base of his shaft.

The first time he stuttered, he blamed it on the poor lighting. The second time, he coughed and took a sip of water, his hand shaking slightly as he brought the glass to his lips. The third time, the prosecutor paused, a look of concern flashing across their face. "Your honor, are you feeling quite alright?"

Neuvillette's eyes snapped up, his cheeks burning with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "I'm fine," he ground out, his voice strained. "Just a... a bit of a cold, I think." He coughed into his fist, hoping it was convincing. The room watched him for a moment before the proceedings continued, the murmur of whispers and shuffling papers resuming.

Y/N took advantage of the distraction, their mouth once again wrapping around Neuvillette's cock. This time, they were more cautious, their movements slow and deliberate. They could feel the judge's thighs tensing, his hips trying to rock up to meet them despite his efforts to remain still. The sound of fabric against skin was almost silent, but to Neuvillette, it was like a symphony in his ears.

He tried to focus on the case, really he did. But every time Y/N hit just the right spot, his eyes would squeeze shut, and a strangled sound would escape his throat. He bit down on his gloved fingers, the leather muffling his moans. The room was so still, so formal, and here he was, on the verge of losing control.

The case droned on, the words a blur as Neuvillette's mind was a whirlwind of pleasure and panic. He could feel the climax building, a crescendo that was all too familiar. Y/N's tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, teasing the slit before plunging back down, taking him in deep.

Neuvillette's body tensed, and he had to bite down on the leather of his gloved hand to keep from crying out. The sudden sharp pain brought him back to reality for a brief moment. He looked up, trying to focus on the defendant standing before him, but all he could see was the swirl of color from the stained glass windows above, casting a kaleidoscope across the room.

"Your honor," the prosecutor's voice cut through the haze, "the defense seems to be... distracted. Is everything alright?" Concerned whispers spread through the courtroom like a ripple in a pond.

Neuvillette coughed, his voice strained. "Just a bit of... allergies, yes. The flowers outside, you know." He cleared his throat and hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt. "Please, continue with your questioning."

The prosecutor looked at him skeptically but carried on. Meanwhile, Y/N had found his sweet spot, licking and sucking with the finesse of a maestro conducting an orchestra. Neuvillette's eyes watered, his hips jerking slightly as he felt the release approaching.

He had to get a grip, literally. He clenched his fists in his robes, the fabric bunching in his grip. "What is your defense?" he managed to ask the defendant, his voice a mix of authority and the beginning of a moan.

The defendant, a burly man with a scruffy beard, looked confused. "I-I was just saying, Your Honor, that I didn't mean to..."

But Neuvillette wasn't listening. Y/N's mouth was like a vise, their tongue a whirlwind of sensation. He could feel the pressure building, the dam about to burst. "I-I need a recess," he blurted out, his voice a strangled whisper.

The room went silent, all eyes on the judge who was clearly not his usual composed self. The prosecutor and defendant exchanged glances, while the bailiff looked like he was about to ask if Neuvillette needed medical attention.

"A... recess?" the prosecutor echoed, looking at the clock. "But we've only just begun."

"Now," Neuvillette snapped, his voice firm despite the tremble in his legs. "This... this case is too important to be rushed." He slammed his gavel down, the sound echoing through the hushed room.

The bailiff stepped forward, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your Honor, are you feeling... well?"

Neuvillette took a deep breath, willing his body to calm. "I'm fine," he assured, his voice a barely controlled rumble. But Y/N's mouth was like a siren's call, latched onto that spot that made his toes curl and his vision swim. He couldn't ignore the way their tongue danced around the sensitive ridge, the flicks and swirls that sent bolts of pleasure through him.

The prosecutor looked unconvinced, but the defendant's counsel nodded, eager to take advantage of the break. "Very well, Your Honor," the prosecutor said, their voice filled with skepticism. “We'll reconvene in fifteen minutes.”

The room buzzed with whispers as everyone began to stand, their movements a symphony of confusion and curiosity. Y/N didn't waste a second, pulling away from Neuvillette's cock with a final, tantalizing kiss that left him gasping for air. They slipped out from under the desk, smoothing their clothes with a smug grin. "Fifteen minutes, perfect," they murmured, giving Neuvillette's leg a final squeeze before sauntering out of the courtroom.

The judge took a moment to compose himself, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He adjusted his robes, trying to hide the evidence of their tryst. The room emptied slowly, the murmurs of the crowd fading into the hallway. He waited until the last set of footsteps had disappeared before standing, his legs wobbly with need. He could feel the stickiness on his cock, a testament to how close he'd come.

"Y/N, office," he called out, his voice still a little hoarse. Y/N's eyes lit up with excitement, their hand already on the doorknob. They stepped aside, allowing Neuvillette to pass, their fingers trailing over his lower back as they did so.

Once in the office, Neuvillette's gaze swept over the chaos. Papers littered the floor, ink pots were overturned, and the smell of spilled wine filled the air. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his body. "This place is a mess," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/N shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on their lips. "It's all part of the ambiance," they said, stepping closer to him. They reached up, untying the knot of his sash with nimble fingers. "Now, where were we?"

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with desire, his hand coming up to cup Y/N's cheek. "We were about to take this somewhere more... private," he murmured, his thumb tracing their jawline. "And then, we're going to make up for lost time."

The door clicked shut behind them, the sound echoing through the cluttered room. Y/N's eyes locked onto his, their hands roaming over his body with a hunger that matched his own. They stepped closer, their bodies pressing together in a delicious dance of heat and want.

"Fuck, you're so hard for me," Y/N growled, their fingers fumbling with the button of his pants. With a swift, brutal motion, they tore open his fly, sending his cock springing free. It jutted out, a testament to his unabated desire, slick with pre-come and begging for release.

Neuvillette's cock sprang free, a testament to his unabated desire. He watched as Y/N took it in their hand, their grip firm and sure. They stroked him slowly, their thumb circling the sensitive tip, sending shivers down his spine.

"Turn over," Y/N ordered, their voice low and commanding.

Neuvillette whimpered at the interruption but reluctantly obeyed, his palms flat on the desk as he bent over, his ass in the air. The cold wood sent a shiver through him, making his skin prickle with anticipation. He was panting and flushed, cock leaking heavily between them as he learned to savor each delicious slide.

Y/N stepped closer, their cock brushing against his thigh. Neuvillette could feel the heat of them, the promise of what was to come. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the onslaught.

The first slick press of Y/N's length against his entrance was like a spark igniting a flame. Neuvillette gasped, his eyes squeezing shut as they pushed inside him. The sensation was almost too much, a mix of pain and pleasure that made his knees wobble, the sensation of their bodies reconnecting after so long almost too much to handle.

Their rhythm grew steadier as they lost themselves in the moment, their movements driven by pure instinct. Neuvillettes nails raked down Y/n’s back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

"Y/n," Neuvillette moaned, his hips rising to meet each thrust. "Harder."

Y/N didn't give him any time to adjust, their hips snapping forward with a force that made the desk shake. Neuvillette let out a strangled cry, his body taking a moment to accommodate the intrusion.

They set a relentless pace, their length sliding in and out of him with a wet, slapping sound that filled the room. The desk creaked and groaned, a testament to their passion.

Neuvillette's nails dug into the wood, his knuckles white with the effort of holding on. He could feel his orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that washed over him with every thrust.

Y/N leaned over him, their breath hot against his neck. "You're so fucking tight," they murmured, their voice strained with lust. "So good, Neuvillette."

Their words were like a spell, casting a net of desire over him. He pushed back, meeting each thrust with a wantonness that surprised even himself. The need to be filled, to be claimed, was overwhelming.

Y/N's hand slammed down onto the desk beside his head, the sound echoing through the room. "Fuck, yes," they grunted, their hips driving into him with an intensity that bordered on violence.

Neuvillette's eyes watered as Y/N hit that spot, that magical spot deep inside that made his toes curl and his body spasm. He bit down on his gloved hand, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from his lips. The fabric muffled the sound, but the pain only added to his pleasure.

Each slap of their hips against his ass was a symphony of sensation, a crescendo that built and built until he thought he couldn't take it anymore. He could feel his orgasm coiling in his belly, tightening like a spring ready to snap.

Y/N's length slammed into Neuvillette with the force of a storm, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent room. The judge's face was a picture of ecstasy and torment, his eyes squeezed shut as he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. Each thrust was accompanied by a wet smack, the sound bouncing off the walls like a taunt to their secret.

Neuvillette's legs trembled, his toes curling in his boots as he tried to keep his body from betraying him. He knew the Melusines were just outside, their sensitive hearing attuned to every little noise. The thought of them hearing his desperate gasps and the sloppy sounds of their lovemaking sent a thrill of both fear and excitement through him.

He couldn't help the way his body reacted, his muscles clenching around Y/N's length with every thrust. He was so close, so desperately close to losing control. The pressure was building, a coil in his belly that tightened with every movement. The room swam around him, the candlelight playing across his skin like a lover's caress.

He could feel the tension in Y/N's body, the way their muscles tightened and released with each movement. They were both chasing that elusive high, that sweet release that hovered just out of reach. Neuvillette's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more depraved than the last.

His body arched, his back bowing like a bowstring pulled taut before releasing an arrow. His orgasm hit, sending waves of pure ecstasy crashing through his body. He bit down hard on the leather of his glove, muffling the scream that threatened to rip from his chest.

His cock spasmed, shooting ropes of cum across the desk, painting the once pristine surface with a chaotic pattern of white. The smell of sex filled the room, a musky scent that seemed to cling to every inch of them. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and delight at the display, their own hand moving faster as they watched him come undone.

The hand over his mouth was almost painful now, but Neuvillette didn't care. He bucked and thrashed beneath Y/N, the world outside the office forgotten. The only thing that mattered was the exquisite pleasure that consumed him, leaving him boneless and panting.

Finally, the storm passed, and he collapsed against the desk, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The hand over his mouth slipped away, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes still closed. The silence was deafening, the only sound the faint tick of the clock on the wall.

Neuvillette's eyes snapped open, his heart dropping into his stomach. He looked at the timepiece, the hands pointing to the number fifteen. "No.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

---posting to the correct blog lol---

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

After the week you’ve had, the need for a strong drink is irresistible. You’re almost there. Friday. You just need to make it through the day. There’s only one obstacle in your way. Mr. Stark. 

You bring him his ritualistic cafe au lait just after noon. He has an airpod in his ear, chattering on a call as he clicks around his floating computer screen. You keep your head down, making yourself invisible as you place the cup on a coaster. He leans back in his white leather chair as he speaks, reaching quickly for the coffee. 

“Yeah, Rogers, maybe, I don’t know about you but I’m not looking to invest right now. I got enough eggs to hatch...” Stark sips as he rests his other hand on his thigh.  

Before you can retreat, your eyes flick over and see the moving image on the monitor. You don’t react. You just backpedal and return to your desk, gently closing the door as to not disturb your call. You might commend him for multitasking if it wasn’t so inappropriate. 

You cup your chin and zero in on your screen, fighting the images seared into your eyes. The woman’s ass spread wide as the man... nope. Not today. 

Mr. Stark’s reputation is less than pristine. Everyone knows how he is but he’s the CEO. Who’s going to say anything? Or do anything? Coming into the role, you expected a demanding workload and a finicky boss, but not everything else. Not the blatant disregard for others and brazen lack of shame. 

You glance over at his door before you dare to take out your phone. You lay it next to your keyboard and keep your hand under your chin. You look down as you press to unlock and read the messages from the other girls. Izzie can’t make it, she’s out in the field, but the others are down. Awesome. 

You scroll through the gif catalogue and send a celebratory reaction. Mr. Stark’s door startles you and you slide your phone up under your monitor stand to try to hide it. You put your attention back to the calendar and swoop your mouse around the pad. 

Stark approaches as he slurps loudly over the brim of his cup. You feel the weight of his gaze and meet it shyly, pushing your glasses up your nose as you sit up. You can’t quite smile as your jaw locks up. 

“Sir?” You greet him in confusion. 

“So, Friday,” his brown eyes dip down to consider the depths of the mug, “got any exciting plans?” 

You look left then right and back at him. Your brow twitches in surprised confusion. Mr. Stark never asks about your personal life. He only ever talks about his private jet and high-life getaways to locations you could never dream of. Your cocktails are meagre compared to his elite lifestyle. 

“No, sir,” you say. “How about you?” 

He smirks and tilts his head. He slowly prowls around your desk and you swivel your chair to face him as he nears the corner to your right. You tilt to look up at him. 

“Ah, the usual, there’s this sweet little blonde thing down in Barbados waiting for me,” he chuckles as his eyes rove over your desk, “no dates? No... partying?” 

“Sir, I... just errands.” 

“Uh huh,” he clucks and reaches for your mouse. Nope. He swerves and swipes up your phone as it lights up beneath the stand. Shoot. “Social hour, huh?” 

“No, sir. I just shut off an alarm and forgot--” 

“You’re a bad liar, stop it,” he warns as he brings your phone up and reads the messages popping up, “girls’ night?” He looks at you over the cell, “that sounds like more than errands to me.” 

“Well, sir, I didn’t think... it was important.” 

“Must be if you’re texting at work,” he tosses the phone at you and you catch it as it lands in your lap. “You been to Barbados?” 

“Barbados? No?” You answer dumbly, no expecting the question. 

“Wanna go?” 

You hesitate. Is this some trick? It’s like when he was taunting Walker last week, baiting him into giving answers that made him look stupid.

“Sir, maybe one day, I guess, I never thought--” 

“No thinking. I know you’re not that fucking simple,” he reaches to poke your forehead and your recoil. “Don’t get too fucking crazy tonight, sweetheart, jet takes off at six. In the morning.” 

You frown and shake your head. He can’t mean what you think. 

“Should I have your luggage--” 

“Be there,” he demands and gulps back a mouthful. He slams down the empty mug on your desk and backs up, “if you’re still thirsty, they got cocktails on the plane.” 

He turns and strides away, whistling as he checks his watch. He sighs as he approaches the office door, pausing, “when Odinson gets here, make sure he has everything he needs.” He glances back with a smirk as you peer around your monitor, “and smile, sweetheart, you got nice lips.” 

You stare after him as he closes his office door and you sit back. You chew your thumb and look down at your phone. You sniff as you watch the others messages stream over the screen. Now you know better than to have your phone out at work. Now you get to do overtime. Fun. 

You rub your cheek and roll close to your desk. You’re not going to miss tonight, even if Mr. Stark wants to take away your weekend. You’ve been waiting for this and you need the boost before you face whatever he has planned.  

A message blips up in the corner and you click it, not daring to ignore Mr. Stark’s icon. The window spreads over the screen and the message floats over the reply bar. ‘Don’t forget a bikini’. 

Huh? 

[endless-ineffabilities]

of perilous desire

chapter one - se mōris (the end)

vampire!Aemond x f!reader (modern AU)

story synopsis: the reader works the night shift as a receptionist at the local hospital. Someone comes in one night to drop off a patient, and she subsequently suspects that this person is pursuing her. Why is there no real trace of him anywhere? Why does she see him in her dreams? Here begins a craving that may be never be satiated, a desire so perilous it might cost her everything...

word count: <1k ▪︎ masterlist

The night is young.

You've just made your third trip to the personnel break room, filling up on a much-needed caffeine fix, slumping back in your swivel chair in a bored huff.

It's 3 in the morning, which means you have four more hours to go. Oh joy.

Working in the hospital is decent enough; it pays the bills, it keeps you from being unemployed. But it feels like it's supposed to be a transitioning - a jumping off point into bigger and better things. When you were a child, your dream certainly was not to be a night receptionist at a hospital. But it's been a year, and you are still here for some reason.

Were you stuck? Perhaps you have grown complacent? You're meant to be doing something else, something worthwhile, and you know this. Granted, you do help people to some extent, but nurses and doctors are the true heroes.

Anyone with a semi-decent high school education can do your job.

The coffee is stale, and it suspiciously tastes of the antiseptic that is always in the air. You drink it anyway, grimacing with every sip.

The tap tap tapping of your pen against the desk distracts you, and it must have kept you from noticing the new arrival.

"Excuse me."

You snap up, half in a daze, the coffee doing nothing for your alertness.

And you see him. Clad in all black - leather overcoat, leather shoes, well-pressed trousers. Long white-blonde hair flowing smoothly down his back, neatly kept away from his face. One eye a blazing purple, the other a ghostly white. He looked like something out of the gothic romance novels you used to read in middle school.

Unusual. Poised. Beautiful.

You have to swallow hard in order to find the strength to speak."How... how can I help you, sir?"

"My... friend," he says, coolly maintaining eye contact that it's almost unnerving. Or maybe it's the effect he has on people, looking the way he does. "She needs some assistance."

"Oh," you stand up, looking behind him and seeing the woman slumped on the bench in the waiting area. Leaning against one arm, with her black hair partially obscuring her face. She blinks as if in a stupor when the man glances at her, smiling goofily despite her state. "Is she alright?" you ask him, and he doesn't answer, only continuing to stare at you. You press on the paging system, calling on a nurse to come her aid.

You come over and crouch down in front of her. "What's happened? Can you tell me your name?"

She giggles wildly, like you just cracked the funniest joke. "My name is Alys," she says. "At least I think so." You notice her pallid complexion, her lips taking on a bluish tint. She appears to be awake but not truly aware of her surroundings.

The nurse on duty is taking a while, so you turn back to the man. "What happened to her? Does she have a concussion? Are you her husband or a relative?"

Seconds pass. You look at him expectantly, but he gives you nothing. He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing, like a predator sizing up his prey.

"Hmm," he finally makes a sound, though it isn't really a response.

Growing impatient, you stride behind your desk and recover the necessary forms. "I'm going to need you to fill these - "

When you turn to address him, he's gone.

One of the nurses, Patrick, arrives to assist the woman called Alys.

He goes through the motions, flashing a penlight in her eyes, checking her pulse, asking her simple questions to keep her conscious.

"She came in alone?" he asks you, as he waves another nurse to come help.

"No," you shake your head, "her companion was just here. A man - "

"What man? Did he run away or something?"

Did he? He had seemingly vanished in a split second, and you were sure you didn't hear him rushing out the front doors. You didn't hear anything at all.

"I don't know," you shrug, confused. "He didn't even fill in a form or anything."

The nurses manage to situate Alys in a wheelchair, the dark-haired woman still smiling and mumbling to herself. Just as they wheel her away, you hear her soft voice crooning, "Ae-mond, oh, my Aemond!"

"Well, shit," you mutter, the momentary commotion had come and gone. The coffee still sits on your desk, now cold. The air still smelled of sickening sterility.

You were still, as dramatic as it sounds, lost and adrift. You snort to yourself. What a thought.

If only you could have your head in the clouds, all blissed out, like the Alys woman. Though her state was likely brought on by hard drugs.

Or was it him?

Everything is the same. Except that the stranger has become ingrained your mind.

Who was he?

An hour later, you stand outside in the portico, cigarette balanced between your fingers. It's a nasty habit, sure, but people would probably be shocked at how common it is among the hospital staff. The nurses, even.

You're supposed to feel terrible about it, working at an establishment that champions health, but you justify it in that you're just a receptionist. Weren't the medical professionals the real hypocrites? How else will you keep awake?

The smoke billows out of your lips. You watch their shapes dissipating in the cold morning air, entranced.

Suddenly, you sense something shuffle from the corner of your eye. Shivers erupt all over your arms, your mind immediately grasping at the worst possible scenario.

"Hello?" This is how the side characters die in horror movies, quickly and unceremoniously, forgotten before the main act actually begins. Your shaking hand squashes the cigarette down on the wall-mounted ashtray.

It was probably nothing, likely one of the stray kittens running around. Despite that, you determinedly walk back to the entrance, fists bunched in your pockets.

Then there's something again. A gust of wind. A flash of pale blonde hair. A feeling like you're being watched.

Is the entrance so far? You're going to get kidnapped, you're sure of it.

The doors are in sight, those lifeless glass windows within reach, when you're spun around swiftly that you don't have time to think of anything at all.

You're floating, your feet had left the ground.

Pushed into something smooth, cocooned around your paralysed form. Leather.

He hushes you, brushing his lips against your cheek, featherlike, careful not to make full contact. You want to fight, you should fight, but you can't.

Something coaxes you into accepting this, so you do.

The painful prick against your neck is momentary. Followed by complete and utter bliss.

Your final thought is the word Alys was singing so sweetly. That strange name, which now exits your lips like a prayer.

"Aemond."

taglist*: @gwaynehightowerswhore @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @sprinklesprinkle888 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @angel6776 @different-tale-student @world-of-bitchcraft @teasweeter @raging-panda @rhaenys-nyra @gelacat0413 @simplymurdock @yariany02 @barnes70stark @stupid--person @lonan-hane @thescooponsof @donalesaa

*refer here to be tagged in hotd works; comment below to be tagged in only this fic.

a/n: me 🤝 running with new ideas before even finishing my ongoing series works!!! I've always wanted to do a vampire Aemond fic. Call this a tester/taster (literally, in Aemond's case). Let me know what yous think, and we'll see how it goes!

[ctrlsht]

Fragment of the Past 01

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: As you get to know your patient, Jeon Jungkook, you begin to notice that something is wrong with him, until the day he confesses to you what really happened during the night of the incident.

chapter warnings: mention of PTSD and depression, mention of hatred towards the family, mention of murder. This chapter is the only chapter that isn’t too heavy. word count: 8K

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Dr. Y/N, your next patient is already waiting outside. Shall I invite him in?" Soyeon asked while holding the doorknob, your office door slightly ajar. You leaned back in your swivel chair, glancing at the clock hanging beside the door. Soyeon stood patiently, awaiting your response.

“It’s still 2:30 and my next session is 3 o’clock. He arrived early?” 

“Yes, he did. In fact, he already arrived at 2. Although he mentioned not informing you since it’s still early.” 

You looked at the clock once again and contemplated your decision. You still have 30 minutes before the new session starts but you’re not going to do anything, anyway. Just like your next patient, you’re just waiting for the clock to strike at 3. 

“Let him in. We’ll just start early.”

After a few moments, the door opened once again and a tall muscular man entered the room. His movements are slow like he has all the time in the world and when he faced you, his eyes sparkled, and he offered a subdued smile without revealing his teeth. He removed his black ball cap and extended his hand, presenting you with a box of cake.

“Good afternoon, doc. I’m sorry I’m too early from the original schedule but I got you a strawberry cake. Heard that you love them.” He said.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Thank you and it’s nice to see that you’re in a good mood, Jungkook.” You smiled and reached the box of cake that he gave you. He smiled even wider as he removed his leather jacket and you immediately saw his full sleeve tattoo on his right arm. They were beautiful. It perfectly suits him. 

“Thanks, doc. I’m happy that I didn’t dream about ‘that’ nightmare and I believe it’s because of the medicine that you prescribe me. You help me a lot.” He responds, sitting on the white sofa facing your desk.

When he is settled down on the couch in front of your office table, you press the ‘record’ button of your phone. You record your session with your patient for your advantage. It helps you review and recall  the discussion that you had with them, and it’s useful whenever you’re writing a book. Having the recordings allows you to convey your words more precisely.

Of course, you always ask for their consent to record the conversation. However, there are patients who do not agree with it, and in such cases, you still record them. They wouldn't know, would they?

“Well, that’s good to know.” You said and got the folder placed on the side of your table and opened it. It’s the record of him for you to easily navigate his diagnoses. “Are you still visiting the gym like I’ve recommended to you?” 

“Yes I do and it helps me to distract my mind to what happened. Going back to the gym helps me a lot, honestly. It’s hard to push myself to go back at first but as I was in there, it became easier.” His smile is like a pill that can light anyone’s mood. It is so bright and contagious. No one will guess that he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. He witnessed how his mother died in front of him exactly six months ago and he suffers a lot. He’s unable to talk for weeks after the incident happened and was advised to attend psychotherapy. 

Right now, he has made significant progress, and you're glad about it. Throughout your sessions with him, you've observed how he copes with his trauma and understands what's going on in his mind. It's a major trauma for him to witness what happened to his mother. According to studies, women are more likely to develop PTSD than men, and you've handled multiple cases with women experiencing PTSD. However, in your years in this career, he is the only man you've treated with this specific diagnosis. It's a new experience for you, especially since it's your first encounter with a male patient with this condition. You've conducted extensive research, but there are still things your patient does that contradict what you've read.

“During the weekends, I spend all night reading your book, Dr. Y/N and it helps me so much. Plus, it’s good and I love it. I can’t wait for you to release the book that you’re writing right now. When did you plan on releasing them?” He crosses his legs as he looks at you with so much adoration. 

“I haven’t finished writing it so I haven’t planned the date of release.” you replied, turning your attention back to the folder in your hand. “I’m glad that my books help you. Do you think that you’ve already overcome your trauma with the event that happened?” You looked at him and the smile that he had seconds ago was gone. His lips were formed into a straight line and he stared at you. It only happens for seconds and he immediately brings his bright expression once again.

“I’m not quite sure about that, Dr. Y/N. I may be happy right now, but later on, I’ll remember the tragic event once again.” He responded. 

“It’s okay. It really happens. Healing from your trauma doesn’t happen in a short period of time. But eventually, you’ll be okay. It may not be right now nor tomorrow but one day,” you assured him.

“Will you leave me after I completely heal, Doc?” he leaned forward, his gaze intense.  You didn’t respond right away and waited if he’s about to add more with his statement but turns out, he’s also waiting for your response.

“Well, that’s quite the opposite, Jungkook. You’ll be the one to leave me after our final session comes to an end.” You tried to smile. “And as your doctor, I genuinely want you to heal and move on to continue living with your life.” 

“Then I’m not quite sure if I’ll be happy for our final session to come to an end.”

You achieved success as a psychiatrist and book author within just four years of your career. Your excellence in your work is a result of the praises you've received from people. You've built a strong reputation and you're determined to maintain it. While you may be at the top now, you know there's still a long road ahead. You're committed to continuing to excel in what you do and to break numerous records.. 

The day has finally ended and you are still inside your office room as you continue on writing your ongoing book. The paradox of choice. You’ve released three books and this is going to be your fourth one. You’ve been pouring your blood, sweat and tears in every book that you’ve released resulting in its success and you’re confident that this ongoing book will be the same. 

You have nothing else to do except to work 24/7. You’ve been doing this for the past four years already and you have no problem with it. In fact, you love everything you do. But there are people who’s against your life cycle. 

As you type on your laptop, your phone chimes, seeing a notification from your friend, Taehyung. He's been your friend since you were in diapers.

Taehyung: You’re not at home. Where are you?

You: Clinic. Why?

Taehyung: what the. At this hour?

You didn’t respond because you figured out that he doesn’t have anything to do but to disturb you and honestly, you don’t have the time for that. 

Taehyung: Join me for dinner. It’s on me.

You: Can’t you eat by yourself and you have to treat me just for you to have dinner?

Taehyung: You talked as if we’re not friends. Come on, Y/N. I know you love your job but don’t wait until you are the one who becomes a patient.

Taehyung doesn’t understand you. You’re doing what you love and you don’t have a problem with it yet he thought that you were drowning yourself with work. You can choose what you want and you choose to burn yourself from work. You don’t have any problems with it. 

You decide to fix your things and get ready for Taehyung to pick you up. As much as you love your career, you also cherish your friendship with him. He's your only friend, and you don't want to lose him. You've come to consider him as family.

“My father is asking me again if I can now run the business in New York." Taehyung said as he got the pork belly from the grill and placed it in his bowl of rice before he put it together in his mouth. 

“Tell him you haven't decided." You respond subconsciously while wrapping the pork in the lettuce and eat it. 

“What amazing advice coming from a therapist herself.” Taehyung smirked.

"What is your decision then?"

"I don't really know, Y/N." He released a deep breath and continued. "I do want to manage it but I can't. I love what I'm doing right now."

Since his teenage years, Taehyung has been destined to inherit his father's assets, including the family company. However, Taehyung chose a different path and became a successful musician and artist. He's content with his career until his father reminds him of his obligation to take over the family's oil company in New York. He has been wrestling with this difficult situation for years and has yet to find a solution.

“Try to do both.” You suggest while having a mouthful of pork belly. 

“I don’t know if you’re fucking with me or what but damn, Y/N. If you’re my therapist, I’ll immediately leave your clinic and find another one.” Taehyung rolled his eyes and you tried not to laugh. "I can't choose both and you know that!" 

You do want to help your friend to get out of this situation but the only thing you can do is give emotional and moral support because you don't have control over his family. You do feel sorry for him but you can't do much. 

"The conflict between personal desires and altruistic choices has been common in dealing with ethical dilemmas. Choosing a decision between what you want and what your father wants that will be beneficial for the majority is quite a difficult situation and you need to weigh them according to how you see it. Your father has been there for you and in return, he wants you to handle his business not only for the benefit of him but also for you." You pause and take a bite of kimchi before you continue. "But you wanted to keep pursuing the career you have right now. It's a personal gain. It's up to you if you become selfish or selfless." 

Many researchers have presented real-life ethical dilemmas and case studies to understand how people navigate decisions that involve personal desires and the welfare of others. These studies often highlight the complexity and context-dependency of such choices which is what Taehyung is experiencing right now. 

If you were to decide with his situation, you'd choose to continue with his career that he has right now. Life is too short to become selfless. What society makes people believe can result in each and everyone's failure. 

If he chooses to do what his father wants, it won't guarantee success, as he has no clue about running their business. And even if he manages to muster the passion to understand how it works, he might not only fail himself but also disappoint his father.

You ended the night with Taehyung bringing you back to the clinic to get your car. It was nice catching up with him once in a while and hopefully, it won't happen often. Taehyung has known you since forever and he knows that even if you love him, you will still choose your work over him. 

You were about to open the door of the driver seat of your car when you felt something. Or more of someone. 

You don't hear any noise coming from afar or nearby and you're certain that you're the only one who is at the parking lot in front of the clinic but you feel like there is a pair of eyes that's watching you. You're facing the two-story building of the clinic and catch sight of anyone but the only thing you see is a light coming from the entrance and nothing else. 

You slowly turn around to see the surroundings and the only thing you see is a quiet night street illustrated by a few streetlights. There is no one, yet you can still feel that pair of eyes looking at you. 

You weren't sure if it's because of overworking or the alcohol you've consumed tonight but you're certain that one of it is the reason why you are having this kind of imagination. 

—

“Good morning, Yunjin. You look pale today. What’s wrong?” You looked at your patient that’s seated across the sofa in front of you. Her lips were paper thin and she continuously blinked her eyes. Yunjin is a 25-year old diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder and she's been your patient for a year already. Being diagnosed with depression can cause a lot of factors including imbalances in brain chemicals like serotonin and norepinephrine. These imbalances can occur in anyone, regardless of their external circumstances. In Yunjin’s situation, it’s caused by her genes and hormones and most likely, she inherited from her family.

Yunjin came from a well known family and her life is what every person dreams to have. She already has everything yet she still suffers with depression. 

Not because a person has a wealthy and happy life doesn’t mean they do not encounter problems. 

“It’s happening again. I’ve lost track of my motivation to continue painting.” She speaks hoarsely. “Last week, I’m pouring all my hardwork and energy into what I’m working on but now, I’ve messed up. And I don’t even know why I am doing this because my work is mediocre in the first place.”

“You know that’s not true, Yunjin. Your paintings are amazing. I love them so much, especially the one you gave me.” You said carefully.

“No, you don’t understand. My works are trash compared to others.” Her voice is already trembling—on the verge of crying.

“Everyone has a unique and creative way to express their works. Not because you think that the works of others are more creative means yours are not. Your paintings are a masterpiece, Yunjin and I won’t get tired of reminding you about that.”

Yunjin is one of your patients who is incredibly transparent. She is consistently honest and open about her feelings, and you have played a significant role in nurturing this honesty.  Over your years of being a psychotherapist, you’ve encountered thousands of patients with different problems and diagnosis. You’ve known the ins and outs of them and you’ve mastered the meaning of every action they’ve made and words they’ve said. You also know if they’re telling the truth or not and you can spot it within a single session. 

That’s what you’re known—for being an excellent psychiatrist. 

However, you’re not yet perfect and still working with your skills. You know that you’re already great but there is still room for improvement. 

Not because you’re confident with how you read your patients means that it’s the truth. Sometimes, they deceive you and that’s a case that you have to improve with yourself.

It’s almost five and a few moments from now, you’ll have your last patient for the day. The truth is, you’re already exhausted with all the work you did today and given that it’s friday. Tomorrow, it’s a rest day, therefore, things should be done until today if you want to enjoy the weekend. But in your case, you’ll most probably work with the book you’re currently writing. 

Jeon Jungkook is your last patient for the day and hopefully, after the session, both of you will feel relief. 

“Hello, Dr. Y/N. You look so tired. Are you okay?” Jungkook asked you as he removed his bomber jacket revealing his full sleeve tattoo. He has a taste in fashion and it suits him so well. With his tall and muscular body, he can wear anything and still look stunning. Beside his body build, Jungkook is handsome. With his beautiful doe eyes and perfect smile, he can captivate anyone. And it’s something that you should be cautious about. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. You don’t have to worry about me.” You slightly smile and insist him to sit on the sofa. “Please take a seat. How are you?” You try to energize your voice to hide your exhaustion. 

"Today was supposed to be great until one of my employees messed around at work. His name is Bryan, and ever since he got hired, he's been getting on my nerves. If it weren't for the fact that he's my uncle's son, I would have fired him right from the beginning," he began, settling into his seat.

“What happened?”

“He lost the memory card of the camera I used from the photoshoot yesterday and now, we had to redo the shoot.” His eyebrows scrunch as he tightens his lips. 

“Your feelings are valid, Jungkook. It’s okay to feel that way. What you can do to control your emotions when you’re in that situation is to leave and take a break where you can breathe.”

“You’re right. But now, I feel okay. Relief even. I just fired him from being incompetent. Someone like him doesn’t belong in my studio, anyway.”

You take a pause to look at him. He looks at you with a blank stare and when he does that, he’s unbothered or doesn’t care. You admit that he’s not easy to read but you’ve learned to master his gesture and there is something about him that feels off. 

“Can you tell me why his action results in you firing him?”

“Because he’s useless and I don’t need useless people in my team.” He responds like the answer is already obvious.

“Don’t you think that he can improve?” His gaze intensifies and after a moment, he smirks.

“My studio is not a training ground, Dr. Y/N. It’s a place where you should already master what you’re doing.” His fingers move in his lips to play with it, eyes still bore at you.

“I’ve established my business from the scratch and I’ve poured my blood sweat and tears just for my business to be in where it is now. Perhaps, I have the right to do anything that's better for my studio. I know what my worth is. Don’t you think, Dr. Y/N?” 

He’s full of himself. But you didn’t say that.

“Well, you have a point, Jungkook. But you’re the one who said it. Your studio is made from scratch and perhaps, you know what being in your lowest point feels like.” You try to smile genuinely. “It’s okay to know your worth and at the same time, look back where you came from.” You looked at his medical records and proceeded. “How’s your condition? Are you still experiencing anxiety?”

“30 minutes ago. When I was traveling to get here.” 

“Why? What’s running in your mind?” He wiggled his ankle and continued to play with his lips, thinking of the answer.

“I was nervous during the ride. I don’t know but sometimes, you make me feel nervous.” He let out a playful chuckle. 

“Why?”

“The fact that you knew everything about me makes me feel something. You’ve known everything about me yet I don’t know a single thing about you.” You don’t understand what's his point so you try to laugh to ease the heavy feeling you feel right now.

“Of course, you knew me, Jungkook. You’ve mentioned that you knew me even before the session started.” You give him a smile and you put down the folder that you are holding right now.

"Yeah, I know you, Doc. Everyone knows you. I'm aware of everything that's public about you. What I want to know is who Dr. Y/N is without her MD and PhD. What do you do during your days off, and what are your hobbies besides helping people with their problems?" He glanced at the wall beside you, where a painting of you hangs. It's a picture of you that people can see in your books, a gift from Yunjin. 

You’ve known Jeon Jungkook with his traumas and all however, you don’t know what he’s up to right now. He entered your clinic being a fragile person with his traumas and right now, it felt like you’re talking to another person. Maybe because this is him without his diagnosis. 

And you don’t know how to feel about it. 

—

It’s a photoshoot day for a magazine featuring you as a doctor and an author as well. It’s a media organization focusing on psychology and human behavior and you’re delighted to be featured for the upcoming magazine. You’ve already featured in some magazine but this time, it’s different because it’s ‘Psychology Today.’ 

You’re now on your way going to the studio with your team along with your agent, Kim. You seem to look calm and relax but deep down, nervousness is wrapping your insides. It is by far the biggest media organization where you will be featured and it’s another achievement of yours. 

As you get out of your car, you weren’t surprised that the location where the photoshoot is going to be held is this enormous. It’s a four-story building located at the center of the city. You’re not sure if the media organization also owns this but as you looked at the name of the building, it looks like it isn’t.

GCF Studio

As you enter the building, you are greeted by enthusiastic guards and staff, which motivates you even more for this shoot with them. The interior is minimalist, with the entire first floor being plain white. When you walk through the glass door, the first thing you see is the reception desk. To the right, there are couches and a coffee table where people can wait, and to the left, there's a cafeteria. You walk straight ahead toward the elevator, and one of your assistants presses the button for the third floor.

As the elevator door opened, you were greeted by a hallway with various doors, clearly indicating it's a working area where the shoot takes place. You walk a few steps before entering through double doors, where you find a bustling room filled with people busy at work. It resembles a dressing room but on a larger scale, with various outfits hanging, and several vanity mirrors where people can prepare for their shoot. It's fantastic.

“Good morning Dr. Y/N. Before we proceed with the shoot, I’d like to discuss with you what look you’ll be having for today. You also have full control of what you would like to look at and we’re here to assist you.” You are greeted by a young male with full of feminine energy. He’s tall and petite wearing a white blouse and a sweater that is hanging on his shoulder. He leads the way and you smile before you follow him. 

You’ve thought that this photoshoot will only take an hour of your time but you’re wrong because an hour just passed and they were still dressing you up. You didn’t feel uncomfortable because everyone is approachable and enthusiastic. They made you feel that you’re indeed their client. 

After an hour and a half of preparation, you finally entered the photoshoot studio, and once again, you found many people inside. You're not entirely sure about each person's specific role here, but everyone is clearly occupied. 

But the atmosphere immediately changed when the door swung open. It was chaotic seconds ago and right now, everyone is silent looking at the person who just entered. 

You saw a familiar figure. His tall and muscular figure is very familiar to you. He’s wearing a black slacks and a casual long sleeve polo that’s folded up until his elbow where you can clearly see half of his tattoo while his hair is pulled back. 

Jeon Jungkook is undeniably handsome and he knows it. 

“What’s this chaos? I told you that once I’ve entered the studio, everything should be ready.” His voice was threatening as he spoke with authority. A side of him that you’re not surprised to see. 

What surprised you is the fact that he’s inside of the studio. 

What is he doing here?

Everyone works silently as if they were being oppressed in their workplace. They were enthusiastic and approachable seconds ago and it all changed when he entered inside. 

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. It wasn’t obvious how you look surprised to see me here, aren’t you?” Jungkook gave you a boastful smile like he doesn’t look threatening a few moments ago. 

A sign of bipolar disorder.

“Welcome to GCF Studio where there is no room for failure.”

You will be working with one of your patients and you’re not even aware of that.

Ethically, there is nothing wrong with working with your patients outside the session but you aren’t fond of that. The idea of working with your patient outside the session doesn’t suit you and particularly with the patient that is in front of you right now. 

You haven’t thought of the reason why but you just don’t. 

Everything is already set up, and you are now behind the backdrop while Jungkook is holding the camera, ready to capture everything. You're confident in the outcome of this shoot, but at this moment, it feels like everything is crashing down at your feet. Everyone is looking at you with high hopes for the result of this photoshoot, and you wouldn't want to ruin it.

“Smile for me, Y/N.”

—

You don’t know how you manage to end the photoshoot smoothly knowing that Jungkook is making you uncomfortable. You were mad at yourself because you don’t know why you felt that way. He isn’t doing anything but to do his job in taking a photo of you. 

Now that you're home, you don't have anything to be distressed about when thinking about what happened during the shoot.

You have to admit that there is something wrong with his words and actions. There are signs that he’s becoming manipulative and a sudden change of mood. He's self-absorbed and lacks remorse for others. You’ve been thinking that there are other diagnoses with his actions and behaviors however, you cannot suddenly show up and tell what other illness he has. You still have to observe your sessions with him. 

You have now freshen up and are ready to rest but you decide to visit your office to check your schedule for tomorrow and the following days. You only have one patient for tomorrow and most of your schedules are meetings. Before you log out, you glance at the folder of Jungkook in your patient list and you click it subconsciously. 

Jeon Jungkook, 31-year old male who suffers from PTSD, after surviving an extremely traumatic incident.

He witnessed his mother die in front of him and aside from that, he was also shot in his left thighs twice. And it happens in the comfort of their home. 

The suspect? A loan shark who’s coming for his mother. 

There are a lot of questionable things that happened during the incident and one of them is how come that he always claimed to have a successful business while his mother is buried in debt? He also claimed that he doesn’t know about the debt of his mother. There are several inconsistencies in his story but the bottom line is, the loan shark surrendered and is now in maximum security prison for murdering his mother.

You transfer the recordings you made over the following days to your computer and listen to one of them, specifically the conversations you had with Jungkook.

You have 12 sessions in total with him and you have 5 more sessions left before it finally comes to an end. You don’t count the remaining number of sessions with your patient until now.

—

You love to read books during your free time, However, it most likely does not happen due to your busy schedule. But right now, you take a break from everything and decide to go on a date with yourself. You don’t normally take a break but you’re becoming busier than usual and you don’t want to risk your health because you know that there are a lot of people that need you. 

You’re not a fan of going out and you prefer to stay at home and rest but getting out of your comfort zone won’t hurt you. You decided to visit your favorite cafe and do your thing there. You dislike rowdy places, that’s why you went early in the morning where people are still in the comfort of their bed.

You underestimate the morning and how you’re used to people getting up mostly before lunch yet there are people who also like you—waking up at 6 in the morning to get a morning coffee in their favorite cafe. 

“Dr. Y/N! You’re here!” You lift your head to see Jeon Jungkook standing in front of you with his bright smile while holding a cup of coffee. 

Among all the people you could meet here, you don't understand why it had to be him.

“Jungkook. I didn’t know you’re here.” You try to return the smile and you almost fail when he sits in front of you. 

He’s wearing a casual polo shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Unlike the last time you saw him, every strand of his hair is falling into a harmonious arrangement. It looks so soft and suits him well. He looked effortlessly handsome as usual. 

“Just grab a coffee and then, I saw you.” He smiles sweetly before he gazes down at the book you’re reading. “I don’t know why I am surprised that you like reading books even for the fact that you’re an author.” 

"I read when I have time," you respond. "How are you?" you add, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself.

“I’m doing amazing. I’m continuing to write in my journal like what you suggest. It does help me a lot, Dr. Y/N.” He takes a sip from his coffee as he gets comfortable in his seat. He’s not leaving any moment now.

“That’s good. Journaling really works.” You just said whatever is in your mind because you’re thinking of an excuse to leave. 

“That’s right. But we’re not in the session right now, Doc. We don’t always have to talk about me.” He leans backward as he glances at your book once again. “The four agreements. I’ve read that book before. It’s good. You’re really into self-help books, aren’t you? You like to write and read about them.”

“Yes. It does help me to improve my writing. How about you? I didn’t know that you also read nonfiction books.”

“I started to read because of your books, Doc.” He looks at your eyes filled with tenderness, traced the curves of your face as if he's memorizing it.

He’s been looking at you like that lately as if he wants you to drown with the way he stares. The way he looks at you carries an underlying tone, and truthfully, that's one of the reasons why you've become uncomfortable around him.

“I’m glad that I’ve encouraged you to read books.” You answer while looking at your wrist watch hoping that he understands that you wanted to leave already. 

“Your photos from the last time were amazing. Our team has already sent you the soft copy. Did you receive it?” You do but you didn’t tell him.

“I haven’t seen it but I’ll check it out later.” You looked at your wrist watch once again.

“Yeah, you should. They were amazing. You’re stunning as always.” His eyes twinkled but you didn’t notice that.

“I want to thank you and your team for working hard on this shoot. I do appreciate it so much.” you smile and look at your wrist watch for the last time. “I’m afraid that I have to leave you right now. I already have to go home.”

“That fast? We haven’t talked a lot, Doc.” He fixed you with a steadfast gaze and you were caught off-guard. You’re thinking of what to respond but you were out of words. After a few seconds, he chuckles. “I was just kidding, Doc. I know how busy you are and I understand that.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I apologize, Jungkook. There are a lot of things that I have to do. But I’ll see you on tuesday.” 

“You don’t have to apologize because I understand. Yes, I’ll see you on Tuesday, Dr. Y/N.”

—

Tuesday came and you just woke up yet you already wanted to end this day. It’s strange that you haven’t properly started your day but you already feel heavy to move forward. Yesterday was exhausting for all the work you’ve done and you didn’t get home until 10pm, however, it doesn’t justify your heavy feeling right now. You’ve experienced worse so you don’t understand why you feel this way.

As you make your way to the clinic, you receive numerous work-related calls, and you're already feeling tired from answering them. However, you have no choice but to attend to them.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. Your first patient has already arrived. Do you want me to let him wait inside your office or here in the lobby?” The receptionist spoke on the other line. 

“You can let him in. I’m almost there.” When the traffic light turns green, you already move. “Is it Mr. Park?” You asked.

“No. It’s Mr. Jeon, Doc.” 

Damn. That’s why the morning feels heavy.

As you arrive inside your office, you spot Jungkook in the corner looking at the frames that are standing in the chest drawers. The air conditioner is already on–Soyeon the receptionist must have turned it on. He immediately turned his head towards you when you opened the door and greeted you with his charming smile. 

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. I thought you'd take longer to arrive because the receptionist already let me in.” He greeted and walked his way towards the sofa–where your patient normally sits. 

“I was stuck in the traffic. You know, morning rush hour.” You responded as you placed your things on your office table. 

Jungkook is a punctual person. He may arrive early or on time but he is never late. If you count the things that you like about him, you’re counting nothing because that’s the only thing you like about him.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you asked him when you get comfortable with your seat. You press the record button on your phone that's hidden from him.

“Bad. I met my father last night and I wish I didn’t.” He brushed his hair back and slouched on his seat. 

It's the first time he mentioned his father at the beginning of a conversation because he never does unless you ask about it. From his descriptions, his father seems like a terrible person. He never fulfilled his role as a father, often creating conflicts with his mother. His family life seems chaotic, and you believe it might be one of the reasons he's become the person he is today.

“Why did you meet him?” 

“He just showed up to my house without permission to talk about bullshit. My life is already at peace and he’s ruining it.” His jaw tightened.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your eyes locked into him as you try reading his mind. You know that every patient that walks into your office has different problems in life and they are sometimes hard to predict but this man in front of you is something else. There is something in him that you couldn’t understand. 

“No. He’s a waste of time. He’s really… Okay, I’ll talk about him briefly. He’s a horrible person and he doesn’t deserve to be a father to me. I never got to experience the love from a father because the only thing that he gave me is hatred. He always gets drunk and gamble and he cheated with my mom multiple times. I’m not going to be surprised when I find out that I have other siblings from different mothers. He’s the worst person I’ve known.”

You find his explanation vague but you didn’t think much about it and you let him continue.

“Do you have other instances where you see the different side of your father? Something that makes him a person to you?” You asked.

“None. Even during childhood. Especially now that he only wants money from me. He and mother are very similar to each other. Maybe that’s why they end up together. They both pissed me off and even though my mother is not here anymore, I can remember her because of my shitty father.”

You were taken aback with what he just said. He never badmouthed his mother until now. When he discussed his mother, there is nothing else he said rather than how he misses her and how she’s a great mother to him. 

But you didn’t say anything about it and let him elaborate what he just said. 

“Do you think that your parents do the same thing?” You asked–hoping that he doesn’t suspect your question.

“Yeah. They may be doing it in different ways of being a shitty person but they are the same for being useless parents.” He puts his index finger on his lips and slowly rubs it while resting his elbow on the arm rest, looking at you with intensity. 

You’re finding a word to say but you found nothing. You wanted to look away but it would indicate that he caught you off-guard. 

You saw a glimpse of his demonic character for a second. His eyes that had once been warm and inviting, now bore into you with an unnerving intensity as if trying to peer into your soul.

He spoke once again and his voice took on a low, whispery, and the words that slipped from his lips sent chills down your spine.

"Maybe that's why she died. Now, I wonder when my father will be next."

—

You're standing on the side of the street embracing the subtle chill in the air as the city lights painted the night with different colors. People are walking by and snippets of hushed conversations drifted on the breeze while the flow of traffic added to the scene with vehicles weaving through the crowd.

You don’t know why Taehyung is taking so long to arrive. You’ve been waiting for him on the sidewalk for 10 minutes already when in fact, he should have been here 30 minutes ago. You’re going to come with him on his event show because he’s been annoying you for the whole week to come with him and for him to stop, you just agreed.

What pisses you off more is that he's running late, and your stomach is growling. You haven't had dinner because Taehyung assured you that he'd swing by the drive-thru to grab something for you to eat.

You're waiting for Taehyung, but someone else showed up in front of you.

“Dr. Y/N, hi!” You met Jeon Jungkook’s eyes with his bright and warm smile. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and skinny jeans that fit him perfectly. You looked in the surroundings of him if he's with someone and it seems that there’s none. 

“Hello, Jungkook. You’re heading somewhere?” You gave him a warm smile that hopefully, doesn’t look like it’s forced.

“Yeah. I’m going out for dinner. I was actually in that building,” He pointed out the building behind you and it looked like a law firm office. “I already saw you when I entered there but I didn’t have the chance to greet you because I’m in a hurry and now, you’re still here.” He glances at the road and returns his eyes to you. “You’re waiting for someone?” 

“Uhm, yeah. I am.” You looked at your phone to see if Taehyung had a message but there’s none.

“You’ve been here for a couple of minutes already. Are you sure that they are still going to make it here?” 

“Yeah. Maybe they—

You were taken aback when your stomach started to growl and heck, it’s so loud that you want the grounds to eat you alive. You were sure that your face was burning red and you couldn’t bear to make eye-contact with him as your gaze fixed elsewhere.

 You glance at him as a soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. “I already hate the person that keeps you waiting in hunger. You know what, I’d love to treat you for dinner with me and drive you to your destination afterwards. Or we can just go to a drive-thru.” If he’s someone else, maybe you will consider his offer. 

“No, it’s okay Jungkook. You don’t have to do that.” You glance at your phone to pretend that someone messages you. “My friend is already on his way. You can go.” 

“Your friend of yours is really something else. What kind of man is he for making you wait for so long on the street with your stomach empty?” His voice took on a sharp edge as his eyebrows knitted together.

“I’m really fine. You don’t have to think about me.” You force a smile as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

“I insist, Dr. Y/N. I really want to treat you for being there for me during my worst days. You help me a lot and I want to get you something to show my appreciation. It’s nothing big and I will be guilty if I just leave you here.” 

“I really appreciate your gesture, Jungkook, but I have other plans. Maybe next time?” You smile hoping that he understands that you don’t really want to go with him.

“With the same guy that made you wait in the cold air? Oh come on, Doc. You know better.” He spoke in a pompous tone, as if he proved that Taehyung is a horrible guy.

“You can make up to me some other time. I’m really–

You haven’t finished your sentence when Taehyung’s audi arrives beside you and he instantly gets out to meet your gaze.

“Y/N! I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. The traffic is so heavy.” He didn’t notice Jungkook until he opened the passenger’s seat and slowly glanced beside you. Jungkook released a sarcastic laugh and glared at Taehyung.

“What a surprise that Kim Taehyung–a famous musician and artist let a lady wait in the cold breeze with an empty stomach. I didn’t know that you’re such a gentleman, Taehyung.” He spoke in a mocking tone as Taehyung looked at him in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“You wouldn’t want to know.” He arched a brow before he returned his gaze to you. “If you really insist on being with this guy, then I’ll leave you already. I just hope that he won’t completely ruin your precious night.” He said before he finally turned around and walked away–placing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. When he’s already out of sight, you turn your head to Taehyung and glare at him.

“What?” You suddenly smack his chest before you hopped in the car.

“Damn you.”

—

It didn't take long before Jungkook was back, sitting on the couch in front of you. You’ve realized that your day always feels heavy every Tuesday of the week and that is whenever you’re going to have a session with him. 

You've tried to shake off the discomfort you feel when he's in front of you because you regret thinking of him differently from your other patients, but every time you try, he makes it worse.

“Are you taking your medicines I’ve prescribed you?” You scan his record file that you’re holding. 

“Yeah. I consistently take them, Doc.” He responded as he smugly looked at you and before you think of negative thoughts of him, you already returned your gaze back to the folder.

“Are you still having nightmares during your sleep?” He didn’t instantly respond like he’s thinking about the question carefully.

“I do. I still do, Dr. Y/N. But it wasn’t worse, unlike what I have for the last months.” 

“Then it’s a good sign. You’re now improving. Are you still thinking about the incident?” You give him a genuine smile while he slowly crosses his legs and places both of his arms on the arm rest.

“Yes, but not as frequently as before. I love my mother so much but I’ve learned to let her go and accept the fate she has. Afterall, it was her fault.” He was looking at the painting that Yunjin had given you as he answered. He doesn’t have much of a reaction but his last sentence caught your attention.

“Why do you think that it’s her fault?” You ask in your soft voice.

“You see, my mother isn’t the perfect mother and she has her mistakes and sometimes, she doesn’t learn from them. She keeps doing the same thing until she has to pay for it and that costs her life.” He responded.

“Do you want to talk about the mistakes that your mother made?” He smiled and played with his lips once again. You’ve noticed that he’s doing that if he finds something funny or there are things that he knows and you don’t.

“But we will take forever if we discuss it right now, Dr. Y/N. But if you’re really interested, we can talk about it over dinner. You promised me last time that you’ll come with me for dinner.” You mentally rolled your eyes with his statement. Here he goes again.

“Not right now. I still have a lot of things to do but we can talk about other things like how great your mother is.” You said and he laughed—as if your statement is absurd. You try to not raise your brows with his action and behavior. 

“Let's not talk about that, either.”

You were doing your best to understand his actions and statements but there is something in him that you haven’t seen. Something that will answer everything

“But I will tell you how I see my mother during the incident.” He leaned forward and intertwined his fingers “When my mother is kneeling and begging for her life, I was thinking that ‘damn. It’s really happening, isn't it?’. And when the trigger was pulled, the world stopped. And after a few moments, I felt a sense of relief and before I knew it, I was shot as well.” His voice was soft and light as if he’s confessing something that he should have confessed before. 

You felt a shiver down your spine as the creeping horror crawled along your arms, raising goosebumps. You held unflinching eye contact, determined to keep your composure and hide the discomfort and fear you felt.

“Where were you when your mom was being shot?” You asked as you held your breath.

This question is already asked during the investigation. ‘I’m in the living room, 10 feet away from her. When I saw her  position and situation, I immediately ran towards her but it was too late because before I even reached her, she was already shot in the chest. It didn’t take 10 seconds of my life before I was shot as well’.

But you still ask him once again. Away from the detectives.

“I was there, I told you.” 

“Yes, but in what position?” Your hands are already trembling. 

“I was standing,” He took a deep breath before he continued. His next sentence didn’t surprise you because it was something you already expect but trying to deny it to yourself, and it terrifies you, so much that you thought that this may be your last day.

“After I was shot, I collapsed, along with the gun I was holding.” 

a/n: I'm almost done with the whole series so I've decided to post the first part. I hope you'll like this new fic because I enjoy writing it! I am open for comments to further improve my works. Have a nice day everyone!

taglist: @iloverubberduckiez-blog @kingofbodyrolls @fangirl-death-rose @looneybleus @softie00

[lovebugism]

Could you do a little something for exploring a graveyard with Eddie??? It’s something I genuinely really enjoy doing but haven’t gotten to do a lot and I just feel like Eddie would like it to. Maybe Eddie and reader make a little game out of it where they try to find the oldest headstone?

Thanks bug! I love your writing. ♥️

ty lovie! this sort of pre-date, but let me know if you want smth different!! — eddie picks you up to take you on a graveyard date, which is strange, 'cause you're basically a ball of sunshine (established relationship, fluff, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie comes to pick you up from Family Video, and you’re beaming like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. 

You’re all smiles when the front door dings open, ushering in the crisp smell of autumn and the cig he���d smoked on the way over — ‘cause he doesn’t like to do it around you much. You too quickly abandon whatever you’d been rambling about to an only halfway understanding Steve. It doesn’t feel very important anymore.

“Eds!” you blurt, excited and loud with it. You light up the store with ease. The grey mood is suddenly aglow with a mixture of vivid hues, sparkling pinks and blues and yellows. Eddie’s almost convinced he never saw color until he met you.

But he tries to be all cool about it. Metal. 

He waltzes in with his leather jacket and tight jeans and boyish hubris because that’s what he thinks he has to do. 

He’s the bad boy. The guy with the band and the wild hair. Sometimes, he thinks he only got you because he was like no one you’d ever met before — the complete and utter opposite of you.

But then you bound off the counter and rush to him, sheer tights rubbing and flouncy skirt swishing, and he’s grinning just like you are. Big and rosy and almost aching. Bright enough to illuminate a galaxy.

“You look pretty,” he compliments in place of a greeting, laughing into your hair when he wraps you in his arms.

His clothes are cold from the outside weather, but he’s somehow still warm. His arms curl intently around you, palms settling wide on your spine. It’s all cologne and leave-in conditioner, nicotine and the minty gum he tried to cover it up with. You could drown in it, happily.

“You look prettier,” you tell him, though it’s mostly muffled into his neck.

His chin juts back when he pulls away from you. He keeps a gentle hold of you, though, just moves far enough back to see you more. The smile he looks at you with makes your stomach do backflips.

“Ready to go?”

You nod, wide-eyed and rapid. “I’ve been ready to go since I got here this morning!”

Eddie chuckles when you rise on the tips of your toes to smack a kiss to his cheek. He’s cold and milky white, but glowing warm and soft pink the second you pull away.

“Hey!” Steve grouses from where he leans over the counter, arms crossed and brows pinched. 

Robin shares a similar pout, sitting ahead of him in the swivel chair. Her arms are folded over the table, and her chin is propped on her wrist. It bobs against her hands when she complains with her usual grittiness. “Rude.”

You wince when you walk by them, unbuttoning the clasps of your mandated Family Video vest. Your arms shuffle awkwardly as you try to tug it over your fluffy sweater. “Sorry…” you grimace sincerely. “Didn’t mean it like that.”

They already knew that, though. Because you never do. Sometimes, you can sound a little cruel, but you never truly mean to be. You’re very honest in your gentleness, a bit brute when you’re trying to be coy. 

To Eddie, it’s the hottest thing since seeing you in his clothes for the first time.

You’re gone for no longer than a minute. Just enough to hang up your vest on the rack in the break room and grab your tote bag from your locker. It’s a simple, beige canvas thing you painted the Hellfire logo on top of — because you wanted to rep your boyfriend and everything, but the club tees clashed too heavily with your outfits.

You can hear Steve and Eddie bickering back and forth down the hall.

“—I’m taking her on a date, actually,” you hear your boy say, a smile evident in his voice. “You still know what these are, right? Or have you forgotten after your decade of abstinence?”

Steve scoffs. “Okay, for your information, I go on plenty of dates—” 

“Yeah, it’s the aggression that’s so convincing.” Eddie tries his best not to laugh through his sarcasm. You vaguely hear Robin let out a poorly muted snort.

“—And I’m not abstinent, alright?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Ask your mom.”

“She’s dead, you dick.”

A beat of silence passes. Steve’s grows quieter, much more gentle. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Eddie doesn’t verbally accept his apology. He doesn’t need to. It’s unsaid by now. That’s their whole thing — they just argue back and forth until one of them makes a bigger dumbass out of themself. Steve loses, most of the time.

“Where are you guys even going?” Robin wonders aloud, if only to stop the meaningless bickering.

You appear from the back then, out of your uniform and ready to leave the wretched nine-hour shift behind. You’re practically the personification of autumn — chunky vinyl boots, sheer tights, plaid skirt, and oversized fluffy turtleneck. 

And Eddie’s just… Eddie.

“A graveyard!” you answer, smiling a bit too brightly.

She blinks at you in return, like she must’ve heard you wrong. “Excuse me— a what?”

“A cemetery! The one by Forest Hills— did you know it’s one of the oldest cemeteries in the state? I’m pretty sure it was built in, like, the 1800s or something! We’re gonna see if we can find the oldest headstone!”

At a loss of how to respond to you and your sparkling optimism, Steve just nods. “Wow. The eighteen hundreds, huh? That’s, like, at least a decade ago, right?”

“Try twenty of ‘em, Harrington,” Eddie jokes as he wraps a heavy arm around your shoulder.

The brunette boy scoffs. “Cool it, Eighty-Six.” 

“Are you two gonna keep flirting, or are you gonna take your girlfriend to the graveyard date?” Robin monotones with playfully squinted eyes.

“I’d answer you, but I wouldn’t wanna give Harrington a complex.” Eddie bends his arm to pull you closer. He brushes a fleeting peck to your temple and turns on his heel to walk towards the entrance, inevitably pulling you with him.

“Keep your hands to yourself while you’re ghost hunting, creeps!” Steve calls to the two of you. “Public indecency is a serious crime!”

The front door dings again. An autumn breeze takes your breath away. Everything is blue and orange and yellow, colors vivid enough to taste.

Eddie wraps his fingers around the metal handle, keeping the entrance open for you as you walk through it. He flashes his friends a crooked smile over his shoulder. “I don’t plan on being publicly indecent in front of a bunch of ghosts, but I am gonna kiss her stupid before the night’s over.”

Steve’s chiseled features scrunch with disdain. You’re practically the personification of sunshine; it’s hard for him to imagine you as anything but pure — harder to imagine you sucking face with Eddie Munson. Or just you and Eddie Munson at all.

The door thuds shut behind you. Steve and Robin watch silently as Eddie leads you to his van. You wrap both your arms around one of his, smiling up at him and mouthing something they can’t quite make out. 

He opens the passenger seat door for you. You smack a kiss on his cheek before you get inside. Eddie’s blushing something fierce while he rounds the hood.

“She’s super funny, she’s pretty — way too pretty for Munson, and now she’s going to a cemetery. With him,” Steve gripes, mostly to himself, completely and utterly dumbfounded. If there was ever a time to believe the swirling rumors about Eddie Munson and his devil magic, it’d be right now.

“Yeah…” Robin hums, voice quiet and far away.

“How the hell did he manage that?”

“I don’t know… But I think I’m in love with her.”

Steve takes his eyes off the parting van and flashes his best friend an incredulous gape. 

It knocks Robin from her daze. Her ocean eyes widen as she rambles in a useless attempt to defend herself. “What? She plays with my hair when I get headaches and lets me talk about shit I like, even though I know she has zero idea what I’m talking about! That’s, like, my top two languages, Steve!”

[sanjisjuul]

Therapist Law!

Summary: Law is a kinky therapist

Cw: fem reader, cursing, spanking, fingering

Note: if you've seen this before it's because its from my old account! i'm working on recovering all my fics and thanks to @pileofmush this one has been located in its entirety!

Word count: 3.2k

Mdni 18+

the ticking of the clock on the sad beige walls reverberates through your eardrums as you bounce your leg up and down in anticipation. a metallic taste tingles your taste buds as you draw blood from how hard you're chewing on your lip. 

therapy. something you've wanted to do, but simultaneously put off for years. a recent break up that you initiated caused you to finally seek a doctor. your past lover, while a good person, didn't provide the affection you so much craved. you felt ignored, a bother almost, everything you put in was almost consumed rather than given back. not to mention sexually you were more than less satisfied, your partner always getting their needs met and not bothering to give yours any attention. 

now you're sat in an uncomfortable leather chair, the squeaking making you cringe internally as you shift around. you try to search the walls for any distraction to calm your nerves, but the barren office offers absolutely nothing. 

"y/n?" the soft voice of the receptionist breaks you from your inner thoughts. you look up at her and hum in question as she smiles softly at you. "dr. trafalgar is ready to see you, he's in room 5 whenever you're ready." 

you stand slowly, the crack of your joints causing a jolt of pain to run through your body. you pull the sleeves of your sweater over your hands before heading down the hall in search of the room. blank white doors stare back at you as you trudge down the hall. each door with a large black number plastered on it. you come to a halt when seeing the door with a number five. you reach your hand to knock, but the creak of the door causes you to jump in place.

"come in," a deep man's voice speaks, quietly, but enough for the entire hallway to echo around you. without looking up you push past the door before closing it softly behind you. you turn around slowly, getting a glimpse of the room. Dr. Trafalgar's back is turned to you, he sits at a dark wooden desk adjacent to the door typing something rapidly on his computer. floating shelves litter the walls, filled with books, fidget toys, and what seemed to be action figures. a few posters hang from old movies and comic books which contrasts the sterility of the rest of the building, giving you a sense of comfort. there's a black leather chair sitting in the corner which rests next to a large monstera plant to which you take a seat. 

"you must be miss y/n." the doctor speaks his large back still turned to you. you fidget with sleeves, "yes," you smile although he still cannot see you. "alright then," he presses enter on his keyboard before swiveling around in his chair to face you. you almost choke on air upon his front side coming into view. piercing grey eyes bore into yours, a raven mop of hair sits atop his head styled a bit messily. his cheekbones and jawline defined with pretty pink lips and a black goatee resting on his chin. your eyes shamelessly trail down his body as yours heats up. he's dressed business casual, black slacks, black loafers, and long sleeved black button down. he wears two gold hoops on each ear, but what you least expected are the two large tattoos covering each hand, surprising to say the least, but you certainly aren't complaining. 

"so tell me," he breaks your trance, spreading his long legs to rest his elbows on each thigh, holding his face in his knuckles as he leans forward, eyes never leaving yours, "what brings you in?" he licks his lips, almost as if he's reading your mind. you could have sworn you saw a ghost of a smirk before you start speaking. "well um basically i just want to better myself. i just left a long relationship and want to understand why i stayed so long, why i put myself through so much mental anguish." 

dr. trafalgar nods his head, eyebrows furrowed as he actively listens to what you have to say, "well let's start with this. tell me about your last relationship. what occurred, and how it ended." he reaches for a notepad, pen and reading glasses on his desk, before sliding the glasses on and reassuming his previous position. 

you stumble a bit before starting your sentence, the glasses on his handsome face distracting you as you try to recall your memories. "um.. well yeah, i basically felt ignored, almost an afterthought," you start. you go on a long rant recalling all of your frustrating memories, the times you felt like a bother, the constant effort you put in to get none in return, and the way this affected you which ultimately led you to leave.

dr. trafalgar takes notes as you go, looking up every so often to give you a look of understanding, not one of pity which you've received far too many times as of late. you catch your breath as you finish, feeling a sense of relief as you finish your recollection. 

"well, if i'm going to be honest, he sounds like a complete idiot." dr. trafalgar starts, before leaning back in his chair. "i'm glad you were able to leave without many complications. it takes a lot of courage to leave something long term as you just have." 

you smile at his statement before continuing, "to me it should have ended long ago, being with him was more of a past time, i was just scared of being lonely. which in hindsight was a bit stupid because i have friends who have been there for me more than he ever was." 

your doctor smiles at you, "that isn't stupid miss y/n. many people fear being alone, it's completely normal. i am very glad to hear you have friends that support you" 

"i don't know,' you start. "it just feels like my life was on halt for such a long period of time. if anything i'm glad to be single now so i can actually explore other options." 

he cocks an eyebrow, "options?" 

you feel the blood rush to your cheeks upon answering, "options... as in other sexual partners, romantic or not." you close your eyes momentarily as you feel embarrassment creep it's way through your body. 

"were you not satisfied sexually?" he sets his notepad on the desk besides him, and removes his glasses, running a large hand through his raven locks. you try not to linger your stare on his long fingers, each digit tattooed, making you feel... things. 

"well to be completely honest no." you advert your gaze from your sexy ass therapist and chew on your lip before continuing. "it's just going back to effort. he didn't make effort for me emotionally, physically, nor sexually. i always made sure that he was taken care of.. if you know what i mean."

dr. trafalgar pauses for a moment, "well if you're comfortable we can go through that aspect of the relationship as well. just remember, this is all on your terms miss y/n." he locks eyes with yours once again, his face stern as he speaks. 

your face heats up as you look down. you planned on talking about this with your doctor, but didn't expect him to be so... attractive. you feel his gaze on your face before you sigh. you lift your head to meet dr. trafalgars gaze, to which he stares intently back at you.

his silence makes you continue, "in two years how do you not make somebody cum?" you question frustratedly. "he didn't even try, he even blamed me at one point, can you fucking believe that?" you sigh in anger. "i used to excuse myself into another room to take care of myself,"  you laugh in disbelief, "it was just so frustrating." you finish, if you were in a cartoon steam would be seeping out from your ears. 

"may i ask?" dr. trafalgar moves his chair a few inches closer, "when was the last time somebody besides yourself made you cum?" you're taken aback at his question, but not uncomfortable in the slightest. you lean forward resting your chin in your hands before pondering, "s' been years, i can't even remember to be honest with you."

your doctor bites his lip before speaking, "and would you say, that has caused some sexual frustration on your end?" you nod, too distracted to vocalize an answer as you watch him chew on his lip. 

"while in that relationship did you ever consider pursuing any other sexual partners?" he shifts in his chair crossing his legs. 

you pause in thought, "yeah, i honestly did. i never acted on those thoughts though, i would have felt terrible."

dr. trafalgar clenches his jaw, "how about now? do you have any desire to fulfill your needs as of late?" he leans back in his chair, legs still crossed as if he's hiding something. 

you feel feverish at this point, his line of questioning mixed with the pure aura of sex he exudes is too much for you to handle. "i-i... um yeah. i'm just waiting to find someone who is willing to do the same with me."

"can i be honest miss y/n?" he questions, his icy eyes trained on your lips before darting back to your face. you nod once again as you stare back in awe, nodding. 

"i find you to be incredibly attractive," he rolls up his sleeves, revealing more ink along his forearms. "fuck professionality, i want to make you feel good." 

you stare back in shock, your lips part slightly and your thighs clench together as you feel the heat in your body settle at your core, dampening your panties. you can't form a sentence even if you try as he stares back at you in dead seriousness. 

he rests his hands on his knees before standing, his stature making you feel small as he approaches you, bending down face level with you. . "let me repeat myself," he brushes your hair back, goosebumps forming at the warmth of his large hands. "i want to make you feel good, could i do that for you?" you shudder as his lips meet the shell of your ear, his hand resting on the nape of your neck, other in his pocket as he leans over you. 

"please," you squeak, eyes trained on the floor in embarrassment. you feel his other hand reach for your chin to which he tilts up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. his half lidded eyes meet yours as he bites his lip, "look at me when you speak miss y/n." your chest heaves at the proximity, his hand leaves the nape of your neck to grab a fistfull of your hair, holding it firmly to keep your gaze on his. 

"please," you whisper, your eyes darting down to his pretty lips, "make me feel good." he smirks, tugging your hair softly, "good girl." 

he closes the distance by pressing his lips onto yours. the kiss is soft and passionate. his hand stays wrapped in your hair as his lips dance on yours. he softly prods his tongue to tease your bottom lip. you open your mouth to accept his offering to which he presses his tongue fully in, savoring your taste.

you sigh at the intrusion, the feeling of being kissed correctly felt so foreign to you yet so fucking amazing. your tongues collide as you feverishly make out in his office. you gain the courage to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you, however you didn't realize your strength as the first two buttons of his shirt ripped off completely.

you break the kiss to marvel at his bare collar bones, also littered with tattoos, you groan at the view to which he smirks. "miss y/n," he says in fake surprise, "didn't know you were so eager." you fake pout at his response and he chuckles before removing his hands from you to slowly undo the buttons of his shirt. as each button pops open, your gaze goes further down his body, taking in as much as you could. every muscle, every speck of ink prominent in your eyes as his shirt dropped to the floor. 

you reach your shaky hands up slowly to rest on his ab muscles, to which he grabs your wrists, planting them on his torso. you curiously glide your hands up and down, feeling the taut and warm flesh as your slick starts to seep through your yoga pants.

abruptly, he steps back from you, returning back to his chair and taking a seat, reassuming his manspread position. you now understand why his legs were crossed earlier, his cock is painfully erect through the fabric of his slacks. 

"cmere," he grunts, and you do as you're told, stepping closer until you're stood directly in front of him. he reaches his hands up to you, wrapping his arms around your torso, bringing you closer. "miss y/n," he speaks, causing you to look down at him. his face is yet again serious, his eyebrows furrowed. "we can stop at any moment you'd like, tell me if it's too much." 

you nod your head at his statement, smiling softly, "okay," you whisper. Dr. Trafalgar starts to kiss your stomach through your sweater, his hands raking down your back before reaching dangerously close to your ass. he suddenly halts, "want you bent over on my lap," he grunts, removing his face from your sweater to look up at you. "mhm," you hum as you position yourself over his lap before laying down. your ass is directly below his face, and your face almost touches the floor, but he holds your hair back to prevent that from happening. 

"i'm going to start now, tell me if this is okay," Dr. Trafalgar speaks before you feel his hand start to slide up the back of your thighs. he squeezes every so often, causing jolts of electricity to run through your body. once he reaches the crest of your ass he pauses, "this ok?" he questions. 

"yes, please continue," you pant out. he hums as his hand slides over your ass, he grips the flesh in his hand squeezing softly before letting go. "such a nice fuckin' ass," he growls before placing a soft slap on your right cheek. you moan in pleasure as he repeats the action to your other cheek. "hmm whats this?" he questions, moving his hand in between your legs, "this wet already miss y/n?" he starts to rub you through your pants collecting the juices that leaked through, humming in the process. 

you twitch as his hand makes contact with your clothed cunt. he rubs softly, the teasing driving you mad as your body slightly vibrates under his control. "so sensitive for me yeah?" he questions, before slapping your ass again, harder this time, causing you to moan loudly. "feels s'good doctor," you whine as he places another harsh slap on your ass, causing you to clench around nothing. "you can call me law sweetness," he sounds before spanking you again, this time leaving a stinging sensation behind. 

your clit starts to pulsate through your panties, your juices start to coat not only your opening, but now your thighs as well to which law notices, "you like it when i spank you miss y/n?" you yelp as another slap is placed on your behind, "fuck-law yes i love it." he chuckles above you, "good girl."

you feel his hands move up your ass and hook around the waist band of your yoga pants, "ass up," he commands to which you oblige. you arch your back as he slides your pants down your legs, revealing your soaked panties. he hums as his fingers come in contact with your cunt, rubbing circles around the area around your entrance, before slipping one finger inside the fabric. 

you shudder as he swipes his finger up and down, collecting as much wetness as he can while creating a delicious friction on your clit. "you like that huh?" he questions as he slips one finger inside of you. you twitch at the feeling, his long and slender finger moves in and out of you, pumping slowly as to warm you up. "y-yes," you pant out as you clench around his finger. 

before speeding up any further he slips another finger past your panties and into your entrance, stretching you out so good as you wail out. his grip on your hair tightens as you lose composure, your eyes screw shut in pleasure as his fingers work in and out of you. 

when his fingers hook over one particular spot, you twitch involuntarily causing him to chuckle, "so that's the spot huh?" he continues to hit the same spot, his fingers repeatedly hooking in and out of your hole as pressure builds in your lower stomach. curses and moans leave your mouth as you feel yourself losing complete composure. drool seeps from your lips as your body vibrates under his touch. 

just when you think it can't get any better he slips his thumb through your panties and onto your clit, rubbing circles as he continues the pace of his fingers. "f-fuck law," you cry out as a tingling sensation overtakes your senses. "yeah? tell me how good it feels," he groans. "feels so fucking good, keep going g-gonna cum," you whine out between breaths. he keeps the pace he set, not speeding up nor slowing down. he releases your hair as your head falls limp he reaches his forearm to catch you, hand moving down to your chest and flicking your nipple through your shirt adding a third point of stimulation.

"say my name," law commands as your climax approaches. your body spasms atop him, "wanna hear you fuckin' say it." you manage to choke out his name, "l-law oh fuck law gonna cum, please please please," you wail your legs shaking harshly. 

"that's it baby, cum for me," he grunts as your cunt flutters around his fingers. you cry out as your orgasm washes over you, the triple stimulation giving you the most astounding feeling ever. fire erupts all over your body as your juices coat his hand. his hands keep working you, making sure you ride out your climax fully, as your whole body shudders underneath him. chants of his name leave your mouth as a mantra as you pant for air.

he slows down his movement slowly but surely until he completely stills. your body lays limp on top of him almost collapsing on the floor before he catches you in his arms, pulling you to sit on his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you. you bury your head in the crook of his neck, gasping as you catch your breath. "how was that miss y/n?" law questions, his voice muffled by your shoulder, you feel the rasp of his voice rumble through your spent body. "so. fucking. amazing." you sigh becoming almost limp in his arms.

"i'm glad to hear that," you can feel his smile through the fabric of your sweater which causes you to reciprocate. he pulls you off his shoulder to look you in the eyes, smirking, "so, let's schedule your next appointment."

love, bia ૮ • ﻌ - ა

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Can't Stay Away, Can't Look Away - Steve Raglan/William Afton X Female Reader

Title: Can't Stay Away, Can't Look Away

Steve Raglan/William Afton X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Pete the Chef OC and Marie OC

WC: 2,917

Warnings: A bit of obsession, maybe stalking maybe not?, Reader is a waitress and is mentioned wearing a skirt for work, teasing, flirting?, serial killer stuff mentioned very briefly, Reader has very brief negative thoughts, age gap, mini angst, and fluff

The uniform beat of the clock was the only sound in the room as it ticked away. It seemed to echo throughout Steve Raglan's office. The silence was unnerving, and the ticking of the clock seemed to be a constant reminder of the fact that time was indeed slowly crawling forward with each minute that passed.

Sitting in his swivel chair, Steve glanced over some client files, occasionally humming to himself as he used his feet to turn himself in his chair; side to side. Letting out a silent sigh, he closed the dull yellow file and sat it on his desk with the others. Pushing up the bridge of his gold-framed aviator glasses, Steve looked up at the clock. Upon reaching his scheduled lunch break, he pushed himself off the chair before grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. Adjusting his tie as he left his office, he walked down the hall, passing other offices before exiting the large building. 

It was a bright afternoon, though Steve hardly noticed as he made his way down the sidewalk, a certain confidence in each step. As he walked, he passed by the local flower shop, which stood beside a small bookstore, before crossing the street and the busy intersection to pass by the park. This was a part of Steve's routine, every weekday since about a couple of months ago. He always left his office at the same time for lunch, passed the same shops and stores, and entered the same diner for that said lunch. 

Pushing the glass door open, Steve walked in, only to sit down at his usual spot. Though the restored diner from the 1960s was practically in new shape, the edges of the red leather booth where Steve sat were beginning to peel from age. The menu board was still hung up behind the counter, along with other posters, antique metal signs of cars, and other things that had been in the diner longer than Steve cared to really care about. The jukebox in the corner was softly playing a song, ‘Put Your Head On My Shoulder,’ a song by Paul Anka. The walls were a pastel blue, red, and white, with some white tile detailing here and there. 

Going to the diner was routine for him, as said before, he went there every weekday to get his lunch. But he didn't go because the food was out of this world, or to appreciate the aesthetic of the place or anything like that. No, he came for you. 

You were a waitress at the tiny diner, dressed in the typical 1960s waitress attire, you scurried to the awaiting people, pouring their drinks and serving their food. Sure, there were other waitresses there, but they weren't you. No, there was something special about you that made Steve want to come there every day for the sake of seeing you. You were beautiful, with bright, sparkling eyes, and soft lips that spoke words so sweetly. You just gave off a feeling that made you stand apart, an aura of warmth and affection. So Steve took a liking to you. And he couldn't understand why he did, no matter how hard he tried. He just felt drawn to you. Like magnetite to a magnet.

Walking out of the backroom, you froze, seeing Steve sitting in his usual booth, hands clasped, looking out the window. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you felt your heart begin to race. Oh, what that man did to you, even just his presence alone brought a smile to your face. Brushing down your waitress skirt, you didn't bother to grab your notepad and pen from your skirt pocket as you walked over. You knew his order well. Well enough that you had it memorized; a BLT and a cup or two of black coffee.

Stepping in front of the table, the man looked up, your smile softened slightly, "Good afternoon, Steve. Do you want your usual?" You asked, and what you had asked him practically every day since he came into the little diner a couple of months ago. 

The man gave you a small grin back, his clasped hands shifting slightly, making you look down at the movement; his sleeves were pushed back above his elbows, strong forearms exposed. Steve noticed your gaze, his eyes glancing down at your mouth as you bought your bottom lip in between your teeth, "Good afternoon, Y/N. Yes, I would like my usual." He answered, his words making you look back into his blue eyes before you cleared your throat nervously.

You gave him a nod, bits of stray hairs falling in front of your face as you did so, "... Alright, I'll make sure that it arrives soon." With one last look at him, brushing the stray hairs behind your ears, you headed towards the kitchen. 

Steve watched you go, staring after you until you disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. He sighed quietly as he leaned back in his seat. Meanwhile, you leaned against the wall near the kitchen door, letting out a breath as you pressed your hand on your chest, feeling your racing heart pound and hammer against your chest. Taking one last breath, you got a hold of yourself, pushing through the large kitchen to find Pete, the chef. 

Peering past a metal counter, you smiled at the old man who was mixing some sort of salad, "Hey, Pete," You grinned, "We got a seven and a black coffee." You spoke, gaining the man's attention. Pivoting his weight to his hip, he placed a hand there, tilting his head as he took in your expression; but mostly your eyes. He could tell that something was going on. 

"He's here, isn't he?" Pete asked, watching your face flush, as you glanced and looked everywhere but at him, his grin widened. 

"Yeah, Pete, he is. Can I please just get his order? Please, no teasing." You begged with a slight whine to your voice.

Pete, an old man in his sixties, had been working at the diner since he was in his twenties; and had been sort of a cool uncle figure to you, only shrugged his shoulders. Turning back around, he began to prepare Steve's order. "Sure thing, dearie," He replied softly, chuckling lightly. "You should probably head over and get him his coffee, don't want Marie to get to him before you do. She won't be so merciful."

Nodding your head you rushed out of the kitchen, heading behind the counter, passing Marie, who only grinned as you passed by her. Pouring the black coffee, you let out one last breath, mentally hyping yourself up before you walked back over to Steve. 

He raised his head, meeting your eyes as you carefully sat the coffee down in front of him. "Thank you, Y/N." He spoke, giving you the same small smile that made you want to melt. 

"You're welcome, Steve. Is there anything else you'd like while you wait? We just added a blueberry pie to the menu this morning." You asked, but the man just shook his head, his intense gaze unmoving as he gave you a small toothy grin.

"No, I'm alright."

Nodding, you gestured back to the kitchen, "I'll, uh, go check up on your food then."

Rushing back to the kitchen, you found Marie inside, Pete still working on the bacon portion of Steve's order. Marie turned to you, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "He's here." She sang in a soft sing-song voice, smirking.

Throwing your hands up, you huffed, "Yes, that's quite obvious. He's here every day at twelve-thirty on the dot." You retorted.

Marie laughed, shaking her head, "I just find it funny is all."

You furrowed your eyebrows, watching as Pete began to chop up a tomato. "What's funny?"

"That you get so flustered around him." She answered, making you look down at your feet.

Marie had been your best friend since you were both in high school. She had been in the same few classes with you, and the both of you had gotten along great, even going to the same college. Later, you both tried going your separate ways, but this town had some pull on the both of you - so you both ended up working at the diner after a while of job searching. She was usually the voice of reason, the one you looked up to whenever you had a difficult question or task. She really was a great friend.

"I try not to be." You answered simply, turning to Pete, "Is his sandwich ready?" You asked as the man nodded, stabbing the red foil-tipped toothpick in the center of the bread; topping it all off. 

“This might be the best one yet.” Pete marveled, staring down at his sandwich with pride, but without another word, you grabbed the plate with the BLT and pushed the kitchen door open.

Walking over with his food, you felt your irritation fade away as Steve looked up, his grin growing. Placing the food down in front of him, you noticed that his coffee cup was empty. Gesturing to it, you spoke, "Would you like a refill?"

"Yes, thank you," He spoke, watching as you quickly grabbed the coffee pot from the counter across from him, pouring more of the coffee into his cup. "How has your day been, Y/N?" He asked, you had been preparing yourself for today's conversation.

"It's been alright," You said, your voice soft. A nervous chuckle escaped you before you continued, "Just trying to keep busy. How's everything with you?" You asked, hoping to change the subject a bit.

“The same as usual, I'm afraid." He answered, similar to what he told you every time you asked him how he was.

"Well," You cleared your throat, "I'll let you eat. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" You asked, smiling slightly, giving him one last look before walking back to the counter.

"Of course..." He muttered, mostly to himself, watching as you slid behind the counter with your co-worker, grabbing a rag and beginning to clean the marble with it. 

Looking down at the table, his sandwich seemed to stare right up at him. Picking it up with both hands, he bit into his BLT, taking a moment before letting his eyes wander the room before they settled on you once more. Watching as you talked with your co-worker, a smile on your face and hers. The co-worker occasionally glanced over at him, making him turn back to stare at his table, chewing his sandwich slowly. Straining his ears, he tried to listen in on your conversation.

"He's staring at you again," Marie spoke under her breath, "It's kind of creepy." 

Hitting her arm with the rag, you lightly glared at her, "Don't be rude. Or too loud… He might hear you…" 

"What?" She asked defensively, "It is, he's looking at you like a creep."

"And what about that? Should I be worried?" You challenged, raising an eyebrow as you went back to rubbing at the counter in front of you. “I think it’s sweet,” You muttered, and Marie didn’t seem to notice.

Sighing, she shook her head, crossing her arms, "I mean, maybe? Who knows? Maybe he's some serial killer."

You sputtered a laugh, raising your hand to cover your mouth, "You're ridiculous, Marie. He may be a bit… Antisocial, but that does not mean he’s some crazy murderer.”

Marie sighed again, glancing back over at him, "He’s still staring."

"I doubt it." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I'm not someone to stare at."

Marie stared at you, raising her eyebrow, "Girl, you're gorgeous. Shut up. And he is, look."

Rolling your eyes at her, you worried on your lip as you glanced over at him, noticing that he was indeed staring at you. It wasn't hard to notice that fact, with how much his eyes were locked onto yours, especially when you could almost feel them piercing through you. Your cheeks flushed with heat, as your stomach twisted and flipped. You dipped your head, biting into your lip with a bit more force so as not to let the growing smile slip onto your face.

"I might do something risky," You muttered, your voice soft, breathless. Marie noticed, raising both her eyebrows this time in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while…”

"Oh, wow, he's really got you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he? You're whipped."

You shook your head, twisting the rap between your hands, straining your fingers slightly with the force, "No, I'm not."

"You're whipped. Smitten. Absolutely enamored. You've got the hots for this guy." She continued to tease, making you let out a deep sigh, tossing the rag down on the counter. "What are you planning to do exactly, hon?" She then asked, noticing that she really wasn't helping you in this situation.

"I might give him my number." You muttered, taking a quick glance over to see him finishing his coffee; plate clean. You couldn’t help but admire his side profile, taking in his perfect features. His dark hair, sprinkled with gray, looked so soft. It looked like it would be great to run your fingers through it. Your hand moved to the front of your head, pulling on a loose strand of hair before returning it behind your ear. You wondered, as you stared at him, if his beard would be soft or rough... “Oh God...” You murmured under your breath.

Marie took a step forward, placing a hand on your arm, snapping your gaze back to her, "Hon... Uh, you don't have to listen to me… But isn’t he a bit too old for you?”

You tilted your head at her, confusion etching onto your face, "Too old?"

She nodded her head, "Yea, y'know, he's like forty or fifty or somethin'. There’s a pretty big age gap between you two.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, your lips parted slightly, sort of speechless. "Marie... I don't care how old he is... I don't care about age gaps. If I was like eighteen, then yeah, that would be a problem to me, but I am twenty-five... I just... I don't know… As long as we are two consenting adults… I- uh…" You trailed off. “You’re stressing me out.”

“I’m sorry,” Marie smiled sweetly, patting you on the shoulder gently, "Don't mind me then. I just want you to be a bit cautious… That is, unless he's super rich, then I say go for it.” You shook your head, letting out a small chuckle, before nodding your head towards the man in question.

"I should check on him. His lunch break is almost over." Marie watched you go, sighing before she left for the kitchen. Walking over, Steve sat his empty coffee cup down, looking up at you with a small grin, a strange glint in his eyes. "Ready for the bill, Steve?" You asked.

"I believe so," He sighed, grabbing into his jacket pocket beside him to grab his wallet. "Same as always?" He asked, and you hummed in confirmation. Pulling out a twenty dollar bill, he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed his as you took it, trying to ignore the sudden tingling feeling in your stomach at the contact. Stuffing the ten in your pocket, you pulled out a ten dollar bill. But, Steve only shook his head, “You keep that.”

Nodding with a small, grateful smile, you nodded, “Thank you, Steve.”

Shaking his head, he stood, "You don’t have to thank me. Your service was excellent, as always." He said simply, slipping his arms through the sleeves.

"Thank you," You muttered softly, blinking rapidly before you stuffed the money into your pocket, quickly opening your notepad and writing something down.

Steve watched you curiously as he adjusted the collar of his coat before you ripped the paper from the small notebook and handed it to him; unable to meet his gaze. He opened it slowly, his eyes reading and rereading the number - he could only assume it was your number - that you had haphazardly written down for him; though you were quick to write it, it was still neat and Steve could read it easily. Looking up at you, you finally managed to glance back up at him.

Folding the note, Steve slid it in his pocket, "I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked simply, watching as you nodded. He hummed, glancing around the features of your face before he found himself raising his hand, brushing the stubborn wisps behind your ear, the tips of his fingers lingering a second too long on the softness of your cheek before he pulled away. Your eyes widened a fraction, your lips opening slightly as a small, inaudible gasp left you. Steve swallowed thickly, swiftly turning on his heel before he lost what little control he had over himself, walking out of the diner, the door shutting behind him.

Standing there, you stared after him, letting out a sigh. What was that? Not that you were complaining. You slowly raised your hand, brushing your fingers along the same trail that he had touched moments ago, feeling the warmth. He had been so gentle and careful and... So warm. It felt good. You couldn't help but smile lightly. You hoped that he'd call you.

And he would. You'd be hearing from him soon. Very soon.

[neonoddeye]

Heart-Stealer | Law x Gn! Reader

A/N: I will be utilizing my all-time favorite trope for this: the “there’s only one bed” trope! Yes, it’s cheesy. No, I do not care. As a side note, I wrote this for an OC I made, but I’m rewriting it bc I know no one would read it if I left it as is.

CONTENT INCLUDES: …sharing a bed (it’s sfw, just cuddling)

“Are you sure this is okay, Law?” You ask with a crack in your voice. “I can always bug the staff for a new room…”

“It’s fine, y/n-ya”, Law replies, “I’d rather us stick together here.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh, moving your gaze up nervously towards the top of the elevator. Maybe if you hadn’t decided to accompany your captain on a trip at the last possible second, the single-bed hotel room issue would’ve been solved. Alas, the two pirates have a long night ahead of them.

I hope Law doesn’t hear my heart pounding against my chest right now…

It was a very nice hotel room; whether Law actually legally rented it or threatened a few lives for it, you didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, either, as you admire the luxury that lies before you. Nice going, captain, you remarks to yourself. Life has been new and exciting since you joined the heart pirates recently; you’d even go as far as to say it’s the best decision you’ve made in life so far. The only downside is that you’ve properly fallen for the sadistic captain, the surgeon of death, the literal heart stealer. It feels like an unspoken rule to not fall for your pirate captain, especially if he’s notorious and stands above most typical pirates. It’s not like you were trying to catch feelings for Law; he’s an anomaly in the way he makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to move under his gaze as if he’d bound you with sea prism stone. You didn’t realize you had been lost in thought for a little too long until the man of interest interrupts your thoughts.

“You should take a shower first, y/n-ya,” he offers, placing himself on a smooth, leather swivel chair with a book already in hand.

You perk up upon hearing his voice cut the painful silence, sweet honey in your ears. “‘Kay”, you give Law a small smile before collecting your things.

The shower was, to no surprise, heavenly after having to shower in a metal box underwater for some weeks. After taking off your clothing and jewelry, you allow the deliciously hot water and its steam to envelop you and wash the day’s worries away. After stepping out, you change into a black tank top and plaid sleep shorts and gather your toiletries to finish your nightly routine. Placing yourself at a vanity, you turn to Law behind you.

“Shower’s all yours,” you smile, trying not to linger your gaze too long as Law swings his lengthy figure off the desk and carefully places his book down. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you try not to imagine the intimacy of having such a gorgeous man sleep next to you, even if not in a sexual context. To have him close, feel his presence intoxicate you and lull you to sleep like a drug: it’s something you’ve wished upon a star for.

Moments pass as you dry your hair until the bathroom door slides open. revealing Law in just a pair of sweatpants, his signature hat nowhere to be seen, replaced by a wet mop of jet-black hair. For a fleeting moment, you admire the mosaic of tattoos adorning his tanned skin before whipping your head back to focus on your nightly routine, finally placing the hair dryer down beside yourself. You blink a few times, noticing a rosy shade of pink dusting your pale cheeks and eyes wide enough to hold mini hearts. Soon after, you see Law approach you from behind in the mirror, his chest almost grazing your head as he reaches over to unplug the hair dryer, gingerly gathering it to use himself. The faint scent of hotel soap, mild tangerine and white tea float above you and dizzy your already jumbled senses as he walks back to the bathroom. You sit there in mild shock at the tiny gesture, thinking that Law seemed to linger there for a moment longer than needed. No matter what he did, Law was your own personal siren; your one true opponent in a world you once thought you conquered.

After some internal pep talk, you walk over to the bed, propping yourself up on two pillows as you nestle under thin, white blankets with a book in hand. You immediately feel the bed sink, signaling that Law has done the same, presumably with a book covering medicine.

“Uh… what are you reading?” Law cuts into the tension.

“It’s a book on the geography of the new world,” you respond, your nose still in said book (though you’re not entirely paying attention to it, as talking to Law is much more enthralling). “A pirate on the Oro Jackson wrote it. Not an easy find.”

“I can imagine it wasn’t easy. You’re into geography?” Law pries his gaze off his book.

“Not particularly. I just thought the book seemed interesting. Besides, the knowledge could help us.”

“Thanks for the research, but I think we’re good. I trust Bepo as a navigator.” Law gives a ghost of a smile at the last remark, either at the thought of his best friend or the sentiment of you helping him.

“What about you? Another doctor book?” you inquire, scanning the cover of the book in Law’s hands.

“Yeah. This one’s about medicinal herbs, I’m thinking about finding some on the islands we’ll come across.”

“You’re very dedicated to your work,” you compliment your crush with a glimmer in your eyes. Law’s commitment is truly admirable; you adore how intelligent he is.

“I guess,” Law shrugs. He yawns, placing the book on the nightstand beside him. “Mind if I turn the light off? We need to wake up early.”

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, the beating of your heart becoming a little too loud for your liking as the reality of your situation sets in.

Does he feel even a bit the same way that I do right now?

Law reaches over to turn off the lamp next to him, leaving the light of the full moon to creep through sheer curtains, beautifully illuminating his sharp features. Law lies on his back, decorated arms crossed at his stomach, and you mirror him, even if it’s not the way you typically lie down to sleep. Silence passes, both parties secretly not sleeping a wink.

“Does it ever bother you?” You start, letting your words reverberate into the unfamiliar pitch black room. “It seems like the entire world is watching you. You were already a monster rookie to begin with, and now you’re a damn warlord.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then you hear Law stir a bit. “You could say the same about yourself. You joined my crew, after all.” 

You smirk, turning your head to the side. Though you can’t see him too well, your heart swells at the thought of your face being so close to his. You silently thank the gods that you’re able to see such a handsome man this close, even with his heavy eyes and messy hair.

“I don’t think about it much. I guess it’s because I’ve been scrutinized all my life that it doesn’t bother me. I did this to myself, after all.”

“I assume you have your own reasons for being a warlord, but I won’t pry,” you respond softly.

“You’ll find out eventually. We have to face it all pretty soon,” Law sighs. “It’ll be a lot to handle.” Whatever baggage he has, you can tell it claws at him, even now.

“We’re pirates, Law, we handle tough situations all the time. I’m… happy to go through it for your sake. I mean, for the sake of the crew.” Way to cover that up at the end.

Law smiles, genuinely, at your last remark, though the darkness covers it and he turns his head to the side so you won’t see. He conceals his feelings most of the time, but when he’s truly thankful, it shows. And for you, he is eternally grateful for.

~

The moonlight of the night before is long forgotten as the morning sun engulfs the hotel room, filling your senses just enough to pull you out of slumber. To your surprise, you’re no longer at one edge of the bed, but in the middle, wrapped in Law’s arms as if you never woke up from your dream. Your eyes widen completely, breath hitching in your throat as you feel Law stir awake and see the same shock in his eyes as soon as they open. You both scramble away from each other, mumbled apologies escaping raspy morning voices as you gather yourselves. 

“I uh,” you start, “did not intend on that. I swear.” Shit, he definitely felt my heartbeat.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Law shakes his head awake, trying to understand why it felt so wrong to pry himself away from your warmth. He looks over to see you slightly shivering, clearly at a loss from warmth as well.

He hesitates before his next proposal. “Come here, you’re cold,” he says, extending his arm out. You pause as well, not believing your ears, before slowly bringing yourself back into Law’s chest, his arms gingerly wrapping back around you. You’re both stiff for a few moments, the rhythms of two hearts like taiko drums in the otherwise silent room.

“Is this okay, y/n-ya?” Law whispers into your hair, still stiff against you.

You smile weakly into his skin. “Yeah, it is. Don’t do this for me, though.”

“I’m not.”

Your heart leaps at the confession of Law actually wanting to be this close to you, and your shoulders finally relax into his touch as you allow yourself to relish in his warmth. He follows suit, pulling you a little closer and closing his eyes in serenity. Silence follows again as you both become overwhelmed in the feeling of touch, limbs entangled and gentle grazes of hands on skin sending you both to heaven. It doesn’t take long until you both accidentally succumb to sleep once again, and miss the free breakfast Law had intended to wake up on time for. The extra time together more than makes up for it, though.

[skele-bunny]

Blood Drive. (No CW) Alpha/Special

CW - None

Tags: Blood Mention, Needle Mention, Medical Setting, Non Sterile Play, Roleplay, Handjob,Breaking Character

Characters: Special/Phil, Alpha

(Ghostober day #11 Roleplay by @kroas-adtam ! Divider by @/wrathofrats , no beta, we die like men. My ghostober will be short fics!)

"Do you have any history for blood transfusions? Could be from things like an accident, surgery, damnation?"

"No, none."

Phil hummed, writing on his clipboard silently. Alpha could only eye him up and down, legs crossed and toes pointed in leather boots, lab coat loose and fallen over the swivel chair. He had signed up to be apart of the blood drive, fire ghouls and quintessence specifically requested as the in-ministry hospital had begun running low. He couldn't help but eye the closed window blinds and door, something about the open bay being full.

The questionnaire wasn't too long, leading to Alpha watching as Special pulled on his latex gloves and tying the rubber tourniquet. Their bodies were pressed closer than Alpha expected, face warm as the alcohol ran over his vein. Bags were placed against the side of the chair, Phil adjusting his position as he placed the needle inside and taped it down.

"There we go, just remember to keep squeezing the stress ball." Phil smiled, taking off his gloves to the trash and pulling his chair up to sit next to Alpha. "How are you feeling?"

"Good so far," Alpha shrugged. "Just feeling cold."

"That's to be expected. Just try to relax. I'll be here to monitor."

It fell into silence very quickly, Alpha closing his eyes and occasionally pumping the ball. He could feel himself start to heat back up after a while, keeping his arm facing upwards. There was a soft chuckle, Alpha opening an eye to see Phil staring at him, boned wings clacking for a soft flex.

The fire ghoul huffed. "What's funny?"

"I didn't mean that relaxed."

Confusion settled in before Phil pointed down, Alpha following and immediately getting flustered at his pants tent. He went to cover himself with his hand, Phil quickly hissing at him.

"No, no. Don't stop squeezing... Let me help." He grabbed another pair of gloves, taking his coat off to reveal the black jabot shirt Alpha constantly drooled over.

Gloved hands carefully pulled down black uniform pants, Alpha exhaling and nervously looking at the door, expecting anyone to come through.

"Phil," Alpha whispered. "You did lock the door... Right?"

"Promise I did. Do you want to stop?"

"No. Keep going."

With a gentle nod, Special pulled out Alpha's hard cock, thumb wiping over his red tip. The doctor moved to sit against on Alpha's lap, purring and mindful of the equipment surround them. Pearls beaded at his head, being smeared by the blue latex and down as Phil grabbed him with some grip. His hand pumped slowly and methodical, humming and other arm around Alpha's neck.

"It's good to have your blood pumping," Phil looked at the guitarist, tail flicking. "Let's me know you're not losing too much."

A long, deep sigh left Alpha, trying to resist the urge to buck into Special's hand. He squeezed the ball harder, looking up at the white ceiling to try and keep himself settled. With each stroke, Phil's grip tightened near the base, loosened at the top. Methodical, almost. Lips touched against his neck and Alpha just about lost it. Growling under his breath, letting go of the ball and gripping Special's waist.

Laughter only followed, Spec readjusting Alpha's hand to his ass, biting his lip as he was groped just as much. The two ghouls squirmed in their own ways, pushing against one another and still trying to get closer. Alpha twitched in Phil's hold, eyes rolling back as he felt a nip at his neck and tongue at his jugular. A breathy moan left, squeezing the smaller ghoul's ass and claws into the arm chair.

"Ah-ah," Phil hissed at him again. "Fix your arm. You'll kink the line."

He slowed down his strokes, waiting for the other to put his palm face up before returning faster. Alpha's knot filled some, looking down to watch himself twitch again, gut twisting before moaning with his release. Phil's glove was quickly covered in semen, sighing at the sight and slowing down his movements.

"That's a good boy... Let it all out."

A few more strokes and Alpha sighed again, feeling himself finally empty and that cold feeling returned. Phil placed one more kiss against his neck before getting off, once again replacing his gloves and grabbing a cotton ball along with tape. He looked over at Alpha who laid still, then the already full pint and a half. He placed the cotton against skin and removed the needle, placing it on the cart tray nearby and bandaging over the cotton.

"How are you feeling?" Special asked softly, finally tucking away Alpha's cock before cleaning up the tray.

He hummed once more, shrugging a bit. "If anything, just tired."

"Good!" A small peck was placed on his mate's cheek. "You're good to leave when you want."

"Oh, you're not coming back?" Alpha tilted his head, slowly standing and watching Phil place his coat on.

"Pft, I wish. There actually is a blood drive going on, darling. Now! If you start feeling nauseous or fatigued, give me a call okay?" Alpha immediately began to blush learning their fake scene wasn't truly all that fake.

With a mutual agreement, and one last kiss, Alpha's tail could only wag as he watched his tiny partner take his blood bags and leave... Oh they definitely had to do this more often.