#contract labour service

[aparajithacorp]

https://aparajitha.com/establishment-compliances/

Shop and Establishment Registration Services in India — Aparajitha

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[sankhlaco]

A Brief Overview of Contract Labour Compliance Services: Ensuring Legal Adherence

Contract labour compliance services are essential for businesses that engage contract workers to ensure they meet legal requirements and avoid penalties.

Governed by the Contract Labour (Regulation and Abolition) Act, 1970, these services ensure businesses remain compliant with labour laws, providing a fair working environment for contract employees.

Key Areas Covered by Contract Labour Compliance Services:

Contract Labour Registration and Licensing:

Assistance in obtaining the necessary registrations and licenses under the Contract Labour Act, enabling companies to legally engage contract workers.

Maintenance of Records:

Helping businesses maintain accurate records of contract workers, including wages, attendance, and compliance with safety standards, which are essential during audits and inspections.

Labour Welfare Compliance:

Ensuring adherence to welfare provisions like EPF, ESI registration, and other statutory benefits for contract workers, improving worker protection and avoiding legal action.

Audits and Inspections:

Regular audits to assess compliance levels and ensure adherence to all contract labour laws, reducing the risk of penalties and improving legal standing.

Benefits of Contract Labour Compliance Services:

Legal Compliance: Stay compliant with labour laws and avoid penalties by adhering to regulations under the Contract Labour Act.

Risk Mitigation: Prevent legal disputes and financial penalties by ensuring all statutory obligations are met.

Operational Efficiency: Manage contract labour effectively while reducing the administrative burden through expert services.

By leveraging contract labour compliance services firm, businesses can operate efficiently while ensuring full legal compliance and protecting contract workers' rights.

[ccalegalfirm]

Key Provisions And Legal Implications Of Restitution Of Conjugal Rights In Hindu Law

In the era of matrimonial disputes rising the ocean tide in the world of married, legal provisions become the life jackets kicking in. Therefore, law barging in to resolve and restore the tranquility between the parties’ conjugal rights come into frame. HMA section 9 defines Conjugal Rights Restitution; "When either the husband or the wife has, without reasonable excuse, withdrawn from the society of the other, the aggrieved party may apply, by petition to the district court, for restitution of conjugal rights and the court, on being satisfied with the truth of the statements made in such petition and that there is no legal ground why the application should not be granted, may decree restitution of conjugal rights accordingly."

A legal remedy known as "restitution of conjugal rights" is available in certain jurisdictions and enables a spouse to petition the court for the restoration of cohabitation and marital rights in cases where one spouse has withdrawn from the other without providing a valid reason. In essence, it's a formal request that the court step in and force the reluctant partner to start living together again.

This concept aims to support the maintenance of the institution of marriage and foster reconciliation between partners. It is noteworthy to acknowledge that there can be notable variations in the enforcement and accessibility of this remedy across different jurisdictions.

The enforcement of restitution of conjugal rights orders may be rare in certain jurisdictions where the concept is still in place, and the legal system may be more inclined to place an emphasis on alternative solutions like mediation, counseling, or the equitable division of assets in the event of a divorce. It is imperative that you speak with a legal expert knowledgeable about the laws of your particular jurisdiction if you are having marital problems or have inquiries regarding the restoration of conjugal rights. Making educated decisions requires legal counsel customized to your situation because family law is complex and dynamic.

Hues of pink or hazard when it comes to restoration of marital rights

Legitimate Foundation:

Restitution of conjugal rights is frequently predicated on the notion that marriage places duties on both partners, such as the need to cohabitate and continue a sexual relationship. This legal remedy is not always accepted in all jurisdictions and is derived from traditional marriage laws.

Request for Restitution:

One spouse usually files a petition with the appropriate court explaining the reasons for requesting the order in order to request the restoration of conjugal rights.

Reasons to Request Compensation:

Common justifications for requesting restitution include unjustified desertion or separation, refusal to cohabitate, and other transgressions of marital duties.

Criticism and Contemporary Views:

Restitution of conjugal rights has drawn criticism for interfering with a married person's right to privacy and freedom of choice.In order to emphasize the value of voluntary and consensual marriages, many jurisdictions have changed their family laws to either completely abolish or severely limit the application of this remedy.

Influences from Culture and Religion:

Marriage and family law attitudes can be greatly influenced by cultural and religious beliefs. Legal provisions pertaining to the restitution of marital rights may occasionally be in line with cultural or religious beliefs.

Human Rights Views:

When restitution of conjugal rights is perceived to violate a spouse's right to privacy, autonomy, or freedom of choice, it has occasionally been criticized for violating human rights.

Nowadays, a lot of jurisdictions have moved away from fault-based divorce procedures and toward "no-fault" divorces, in which couples can end their marriage without having to provide evidence of misconduct. Consequently, the implementation of restitution of marital rights has gained controversy and may not be utilized frequently. The court makes sure that no legitimate reason could stop the restitution decree from being granted. Legal obstacles may consist of matters like cruelty, abandonment, or additional grounds for divorce or separation.

In certain legal systems where the restoration of marital rights is still acknowledged, the solution might be more symbolic than useful. Since forcing people to live together may not be a healthy or productive way to resolve marital problems, courts may order counseling or mediation in place of coercive measures.

Content Source - Key Provisions And Legal Implications Of Restitution Of Conjugal Rights In Hindu Law

[filosofablogger]

Score One For We The People!

Far too often the people who work to make, sell and distribute a product or service are not the ones who are enjoying the profits of their labours – the corporate CEOs are using the product of the workers’ blood, sweat and tears to enhance their own profits, to buy yachts, mansions, vacation homes, and private airplanes.  This week may have given us a glimmer of hope that workers do have some…

[shhhsecretsideblog]

I squat between your spread legs as you push. Your huge, bare belly tenses around your womb with every effort you make to birth the head of our baby.

The cool mountain air and smell of spring leaves might have been calming if this was at all intended. We came up here to get labor Kickstarted, not to have the baby for God's sake. I should've turned us around when you started clutching your belly. I should've turned back when I realized there was no way your cargo pants were damp from sweat. But what could I really have done? We've had several false labors so far, you're stubborn as hell, and this labor progressed faster than either of us were told. Not even one damn hour and you're already crowning.

Your back arches suddenly, the head surges forward with a gush of fluid into my waiting hands. Your effort sends the shoulders and the rest of the big body into my hands. In less than a few moments they begin to cry loudly.

I can hardly allow myself to feel elated. We're in the middle of the wilderness with a newborn, you exhausted and no cell service. It takes all of me not to lose it at this moment.

I just need to get down the ranger cabin to get help. Despite your protest, I hand you our baby and lift you to your feet. I support your weight as best I can. You hold our new baby with one hand and rest your other arm around my shoulder. The walk is longer than it was coming up and the afterbirth is taking way too long to come out in comparison to how fast your labor was.

"It hurts..." You mumble and I try to pick up the pace.

We finally make it to the ranger cabin and your loud groans are more than enough to make the ranger investigate.

"My wife just had our baby, the afterbirth is stuck or something please help!" I yell.

The mountain ranger nods and runs to our aid. Your moaning even louder now and your knees begin to give. The mountain ranger rushes to help me usher you and our newborn into the cabin. We lead you to a couch and you immediately plop down with your legs spread.

The ranger aids our baby first, then he examines you. His face goes rigid as he palms the still swollen skin of your belly.

The mountain ranger turns his gaze to us and then looks again at your still large belly. "You sure yall were only having one baby?"

Just when he says it, your water breaks again.

We all look at the puddle on the floor, the breaking of the second waters almost comically timed.

“What… no… that’s not possible… mnghhhhh!” My sentence is cut off as another contraction squeezes my belly and everything inside. There was no way it was twins; they would have seen two babies on the ultrasounds, they would have heard two heartbeats… it just wasn’t possible. And yet, the moment the ranger asked the impossible question I could feel it - movement. There was still movement inside my big belly.

“Oh god, babe… I can feel it. I can feel another baby. And they’re coming down… hoooo”

Your face was white as a sheet as you looked between the newborn in the ranger’s arms and my squirming labouring body on the couch. Despite your obvious shock, you bent down and held my hand and stroked a dampened strand of hair behind my ear. “I guess we’re having twins then. Its okay just breathe through the contractions, just like you did before.” You try to coach me through yet another birth.

The ranger quickly called an ambulance but given our location it wasn’t going to be here for at least 45 minutes. The baby in his arms was crying and wouldn't settle. You tried, swaying the infant in your arms and cooing softly, but to no avail.

“Give her here.” I breathed heavily after an aggressive contraction. You handed me the newborn and put the babe straight on my chest and she latched immediately. She was hungry.

“You’re a natural.” You smiled with affection at your new family.

I started to whimper and groan when the next contraction hit. You offered to take the babe but I didn’t want to let her go, she was happy feeding. The unfortunate side effect of breastfeeding triggered more contractions. The noises I was making quickly turned primal as the head of my daughter's sibling pushed into the birth canal. I needed to move, the sofa was putting too much pressure on my pelvis. I threw my arm out towards you and shuffled painfully on the couch. You seemed to instinctively understand what I needed; to squat. You helped me off of the sofa to drop into a deep squat, my back against the edge of the couch, my knees jack-knifed apart. You squatted in front of me and held me steady, I grabbed onto your shoulder with my free hand, the other supporting the suckling baby.

“Ooooohh it’s coming down…gnnnhhhh!” I grunted suddenly and the baby shifted further. “Mnnnghhhh c-can you see it?” I panted.

“Not quite honey, oh wait! Yes. The top of the head, I can see it. Do you need to push?”

“Mmmm n-not yet…. Trying to wait… let the baby come down b-bit more… oh god it’s so big!” I cried out. “How did I not know there were two in there!?”

“They were obviously very good at hiding.” You tried to joke, not dwelling on the frightening fact we were coming out of these woods with two babies.

“Hoooo okay… okay…. There it is-mnnnghhhhhh!!!!!!” The baby and my body decided it was time and I found myself pushing. Hard.

The ranger came and took the baby from my arms when I started pushing, you stayed poised between my legs for the second time that day ready to deliver a baby.

“I can see hair, they’ve got hair! Keep going darling! Push!!!” You cheered, watching the bulge get bigger as the baby parted my lips.

Bracing my hands on my thighs I grunted and mooed with every push, bringing the surprise baby to a full crown in next to no time. “Get it out, get it out!” I cried, my body already exhausted and sore from the first birth and doing it all over again was too much for me to bear.

“It’s coming, just breathe, and push. Slowly darling, gentle pushes.” You instructed as your hand cupped the full crown.

I struggled to calm my breathing, my body trembling with the efforts of labour.

“Hey.” You said softly, “you’re doing brilliantly. You got this.” And you leaned forward to kiss me. A reassurance washed over me, your comfort and support and love all conveyed within the kiss.

I felt calmer, more in control, when the next contraction struck and I gave it my all on the next push. The head flew out with a gush of fluids and before you could check for a chord the rest of the baby slipped out into your waiting hands.

“A boy! We’ve got a boy!” You exclaimed with a tear in your eye, pulling the baby up and placing him straight on my chest.

“Hey little guy…” I said as I took in the first glance of my newborn son.

The ambulance arrived 20 minutes later, checking all three of us over and delivering the placenta, before taking our new family to the nearest hospital.

[these rp asks are giving me life!!! More like this please!]

[allthecanadianpolitics]

After Toronto police arrested a striking York University worker earlier this month, labour experts are concerned that police are criminalizing workers exercising their charter right to strike.

York University contract faculty, teaching assistants, graduate assistants, part-time librarians and archivists have been on strike since February 26 fighting for improved wages, job security and better working conditions. 

The York workers’ arrest comes one month after Ottawa police were criticized for arresting a high profile labour leader during a rally in support of striking workers.

The Toronto Police Service arrested a picket captain at a CUPE 3903 picket line at York University on March 4 and charged the worker with mischief. TPS officers also assaulted several workers, as first reported by Desmond Cole for Yes, Everything.

“This was a really blatant attack on labour rights,” Tanya Dushatska, a PhD student and rank and file member of CUPE 3903, told PressProgress. “This is setting a really dangerous precedent for other unions and organizations in Canada.” [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[i-cant-sing]

i realized we never wondered what happened when the first lady went into labor with the triplets

*first lady water breaks*

First Lady: Oh, looks like the babies are coming!

Kai: HONEY I WILL CARRY YOU TO THE HOSPITAL!!

*runs to first lady, slips on first lady's pee and hits his head*

now the secret service has to bring their in labor first lady and their idiot president to the hospital.

ACTUALLY Kai was very calm and collected when your water broke. I mean, in reality he probably already had you admitted to the hospital a week before your due date. But let's say that due to some official business, you were with him on tour or something, or maybe due to some complications, you ended up giving birth earlier than expected to.

Now if you're in public eye, where the papz are all over the place, then the sight of your water breaking will forever live on the Internet. Of course, Kai will try his best to shield you from the cameras as he guides you towards a car, the secret service forming an impenetrable barrier around you two. The driver, a professional, is zooming through the traffic, your PA Miruko has already called the hospital to give them a heads up, the secret service arr already there to do checks on everyone while Kai is holding your hand and guiding you to do those breathing exercises.

He has prepared for this moment, all the number of possibilities that this could go down has been roleplayed in his mind and developed strategies to deal with each route. He's ready.

The moment you reach the hospital, he's in there with you, letting you squeeze his hand painfully as you scream through the labour. He's praising you, although monotonously, wiping your sweaty forehead, his own brows furrowed whenever a painful contraction hits.

Dabi was born first, and you let out an agonising scream before crying into Kai's shoulder to see if the baby is alright. Kai assured you when Dabi began to cry, and only minutes later, even more painful contractions hit you and out came Himiko. Kai smiled as the doctor told him its a girl, and Kai turned to you to tell you she was healthy as well. This time though, Kai saw the toll on your body as your breathing became shallow, your eyes losing focus as you told him you can't push again.

The doctors began encouraging you to push, and as the contractions began again, you started crying, telling them that you couldn't. That's its too painful now. Hours passed by and Kai could see that there was something wrong with you- the way you were crying, the way you gripped his hand- it was different.

"Kai, please! Help me!" You cried out before finally losing consciousness, and immeadiately Kai took action.

"GET THAT BABY OUT OF HER NOW!!! NOW!" The nurses pushed him out of the room as he threatened to kill everyone in there if something happened to you. But perhaps it was even a more horrifying sight as Kai had to watch from a window and see the doctors cut you up open and pull out the third kid.

Tomura.

Kai could care less about how Tomura, or his other babies were in that moment. He really did believe you were going to die and it made him feel utterly powerless to not be able to do anything.

Fortunately, you survived.

Kai sat by your side, holding your hand as you recovered from the C section. It was brutal, seeing you gutted like a fish. When you finally woke up, Kai was staring at you with tired eyes, his chin resting on his palm.

"B-babies?" You asked.

"They're fine. You did great, almost died birthing the last one though." Kai replied, his throat dry.

You chuckled, before coughing. Kai immediately poured you some water, pushing the cup to your lips as he supported your head.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked.

You sighed, looking down at your belly. "Well, the painkillers are working for now. But I suppose once they wear off, I..."

Kai leaned forward, clasping your hand with both of his. "What? What is it?"

"I-" You pouted. "I'll be left with a saggy belly."

Kai nodded. "True. But we can always fix that."

You raised a brow. "How?"

"I can put another baby in you, actually maybe quadruplets this time? Just to make sure the skin is all taut again, hm?" Kai hummed.

"Q-quad- 5 babies?!"

"No, 4. 5 is quintuplets. And 7 is septuplets-"

"Kai I will snip off your testes and my ovaries before I have 7 kids. I will literally do it-" You began panicking, only stopping when Kai chuckled and kissed your cheek.

"Alright, alright. It won't happen." Kai's lips quirked up a little, just as the nurses brought in your triplets.

They carefully placed each one in your arms. "They're beautiful, just like their mother!" One nurse complimented. You giggled, a tear slipping the corner of your eye.

"So you're calling the president ugly? To his face?" Kai asked, glaring at them. The poor nurse shook her head.

"I- no! Mr President-"

"Kai, stop." You admonished. "He's just kidding. You're fine, honey."

The nurse smiled. "Oh, well I'll leave you guys alone. I'll be back in a few to help you with breast feeding." She said before leaving.

Kai raised a brow before shaking his head. "She's not getting anywhere near your breasts."

"Really? You're jealous of a nurse now?"

"Who said anything about jealousy? I just don't think she's experienced enough. She looks fairly young."

"Well, that's alright. She can practice by fondling my chest for experience. Would look good on her resume, don't ya think?" You said without looking up from your kids.

Kai leaned over you, watching you and the babies you two made. "You're not funny." He grumbled.

"Married you, didn't I? Greatest joke of all." You smiled. "They look like little angels."

Kai shrugged. "Yeah." To him, they looked like mutated cockroaches that teared through your body to get out. They were even bloody just a few hours ago.

And then just years later, reader was preggers again.

[wofbutgood]

Thinking about the wof kingdoms and how theyd work in my retelling, specifically thinking about Skywings and what we see of their culture in canon.

Skywings in canon are very mountain-based, with Scarlet's palace sitting atop one, and skywings in general being the fastest, most enduring, and most agile in the air, it makes sense for them to be spending most of their time up high.

HOWEVER, ive been thinking about an alternative perspective -- in real life, people dont generally want to exercise if we dont have to, driving or taking public transit where possible. Among the upper class this is even more prominent with chauffeurs and private planes. So, if they didnt have to, why would skywing nobility want to fly anywhere either?

So for my retelling, Skywing royalty will live at the base of cliffs! the higher up in the social structure you are, the lower down the cliffs you live, with more easy access to walkways and transportation.

Thinking about this also got me thinking more about the different social structures in the sky kingdom. Their culture could be described as a feudal system. Within the bounds of the sky kingdom its not even remotely territorial contiguous (and exact territorial boundaries mean little to flighted people) but rather are scattered habitations built on cliffs and mountain ranges.

The social structure is as follows:

Queen and King Consort: Historically the region was divided under many noble families, but is currently united under one royal family. The royalty can only rule with the support of their lords, who provide them with labour and warriors. This position is historically fraught, and it's been known for royal families to be overthrown by discontented nobility. Nobility: Ruling class who 'own' cliffs and prime grazing lands. Also considered the owners of their herds and the serfs who tend them. Mercantile: This could be subdivided into several more classes, but generally speaking they're free labourers and traders paid for their services. This class has the most upwards mobility, and some especially rich mercantile families become noble houses. Warrior: Kind of a difficult class to place. They're sworn to service of their lords and have no freedom of movement, but are paid handsomely and provided with upper class homes, and can sometimes even obtain lordships. Servants: People who directly serve lords, rich warriors, merchants, and anyone else who can afford to pay. Paid for their labour. Serfs: The lowest class, tend their lords herds and fields of food and textile crops. As with most forms of serfdom, they aren't paid for their labour and are functionally slaves, and are considered attached to their lords. It's usually excused as a contract where service to their lords and queen is repaid in protection, food, and 'safe' places to live. May sometimes be conscripted into battle as soldiers, wherein one of few possibilities for upward mobility (VERY occasionally) lies -- serfs who prove skilled combatants may be enlisted as warriors, with all entailed benefits (and consequences). Monks: Monks (of various religions im yet to figure out) exist somewhat outside this social structure. They hold few possessions and live in small nests on high cliffs among the serfs, but are highly respected figures.

The homes of skywing serfs are built into cliff sides, taking advantage of naturally occurring outcrops and niches in the rock. The basis of the structure is usually built around the roots a tree, with a thick structure of twigs and grass woven amid the roots as a foundation, which forms the skeleton of the home. Clay, lime, straw, guano, and other materials are mixed to form the walls and are flown up in bucketfuls.

These houses are usually very small and crowded, formed of two narrow levels (an 'upstairs' where a fire is kept and food is cooked, and a 'downstairs' containing the sleeping quarters and a 'bathroom' window)

Cliff homes are relatively resilient (especially given most of the region has infrequent rains) but still require constant and endless maintenance. It is not unknown for heavily populated areas to experience mass deaths when the weight of dozens of homes collapses a cliff side.

The homes of skywing nobility and royalty are built on the ground, usually at the base of the cliffs in a naturally shielded area (such as in the mouth of a cave or under an outcropping). These are predominantly large, domed structures made out of bricks and reinforced with clay and plaster and richly decorated with fine pigments and frescoes.

The homes of the middle classes tend to be built higher up, but on solid ground (rather than cliff sides) and are structurally similar to those of nobility.

[leveragehunters]

I was going through my great grandfather's memoirs (born 3 March 1880) and came across this part, which feels eerily similar to our current times:

Our biggest handicap was the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918. With men off sick we were lucky to have 50 staff. Some would come back and more would go off. I was off two weeks myself. There were many deaths in the city.   The war was over and the men were returning from France. We were working a fifty hour week. With the men returning, the trend was to repress wages and frown on a reduction of working hours. My responsibility had been increased so as I was next to the superintendent. This was fine, except my wages were the same as the day I started. They said, "You are doing a good job, but with the men returning that is all we can pay you." There was general upset. The returned men were dissatisfied with the wages offered, not only with our company and the warehouse business, but with what was being offered in general.

He then goes on to explain how they met with the Trade and Labour Council to form a union and present their demands (which were union recognition, basic wage of $180.00 a month, an eight hour day in a year's time, and a two year contract), but it all went to hell because of spies reporting back to the bosses and scabs who refused to honour the strike.

After the second day they flooded back like sheep. At Ashdown the travellers and buyers worked the warehouse without interruption of service. The strike was a washout. I was out of a job!

The night before the strike was scheduled to start the bosses even resorted to the closest they had to social media 105 years ago.

The Evening paper carried an advertisement, by all companies concerned, advising that all employees absent from work for three days, would be discharged.

(The memoirs are 180 typed pages, so I may post more bits as they catch my eye)

[aparajithacorp]

Labor law, also known as employment or labor relations law, encompasses the legal rights and responsibilities of both employers and employees in the workplace. These laws are designed to ensure fair and equitable treatment for workers and to regulate the relationships between employers and employees. Labor laws vary from country to country, and sometimes even within regions or states. Aparajitha ensurs compliance with labor laws is essential for both employers and employees to maintain a fair and lawful working environment.

[fuck-customers]

There is a travel ban for a reason. My office didnt close and we arent essential. They dont let us WFH. Should i report them somewhere? I cant get out of my home and its too dangerous to leave yet im fully expected to go to work today

Yes you should report it.

If you are in the US go to

Canada

https://www.canada.ca/en/services/jobs/workplace/federal-labour-standards/filing-complaint.html

UK

EU

I tried to add China and Japan but their sites only posted the laws regarding labour contracts but no way to report employer violations.

I am missing a few countries so let me know what country you are in and I'll try to add it.

[ccalegalfirm]

Understanding Labour Law From A Legal Perspective: Balancing Worker Rights And Employer Obligations

Labour law refers to the complex set of legal principles and regulations that govern the dynamics between employees and employers. These laws form an integral part of social legislation, aiming at ensuring fair terms of employment, preventing exploitation and promoting a beneficial environment for both workers and employers. In this article, we will dive deep into various facets of labour law, exploring key legal perspectives to understand the balance it strikes between worker rights and employer obligations.

Labour laws are extensive and cover a wide range of domains, including but not limited to, the conditions of employment, dispute resolution, collective bargaining, discrimination in employment, and workplace safety and health regulations. By encompassing all these facets, labour laws ensure the creation of a comprehensive and equitable work environment.

Who is Labour or workmen?

According to the Industrial Disputes Act, Section 2(s), a workman is defined as any person, including an apprentice, employed in any industry to do any manual, unskilled, skilled, technical, operational, clerical, or supervisory work for hire or reward. It includes individuals employed in factories, mines, plantations, workshops, and establishments engaged in various industries.

The Act further clarifies that certain categories of employees do not fall under the definition of workmen. This includes managerial or administrative employees, persons employed in a supervisory capacity and drawing wages above a specified limit (currently Rs. 18,000 per month), and those performing mainly supervisory or administrative functions.

It is important to note that the definition of workmen may vary slightly in different acts or regulations within the Indian labour law framework, depending on the specific context and purpose of the legislation. However, the definition under the Industrial Disputes Act generally provides the basis for identifying workmen and determining their rights and protections under labour laws in India.

Key Principles of Labour Law

Freedom of Association: Labour law typically recognizes the right of employees to join or form labour unions to collectively negotiate with employers. This principle ensures that workers can voice their concerns, negotiate for better conditions, and seek fair compensation without fear of retaliation.

Collective Bargaining: This principle enables employees to collectively bargain with their employers to establish employment terms and conditions. This can involve negotiations on wages, benefits, working hours, and workplace safety. The following are additional topics addressed in collective bargaining:

Acknowledgement of a union or unions, Pay and benefits.

Work hours, vacation time, and public holidays.

Standard labour force, profit-sharing and bonus programs.

The subject matter also includes seniority, rationalization, and problems with workload fixation.

The planning and development programs.

concerns about layoffs and retrenchments.

provident funds, gratuities, and additional incentive and retirement benefit schemes.

Minimum Wage and Overtime: Labour laws often set a minimum wage to ensure that workers are paid fairly for their labour. Additionally, they regulate overtime pay for hours worked beyond the standard workweek. The Factories Act of India, 1948, specifically addresses the working hours of employees under section 59(1). According to this clause, adult manufacturing workers are not permitted or compelled to work more than nine hours a day or forty-eight hours a week. In addition, they are eligible for overtime pay, which is double what they would normally get.

Overtime compensation is included under Section 14 of the Minimum Wages Act of 1948. According to this section, the employer is obligated to compensate the employee for any extra hours worked beyond the required time, with either the overtime rate stated in this Act or the rate specified by the applicable government law, whichever is higher.

The revised minimum wage rate increases a skilled worker's monthly pay from Rs 20,903 to Rs 21,215 per month. The semi-skilled worker's pay has increased from Rs 18,993 to Rs 19,279 presently. Conversely, the monthly earnings of unskilled laborers have increased by Rs 260, from Rs 17,234 to Rs 17,494. The non-matric staff's salary has increased to Rs 19,279 from Rs 18,993 in accordance with the revised rates. In a similar vein, non-graduate staff members' monthly salaries have increased from Rs 20,903 to Rs 21,215.

Non-Discrimination: Labour laws prohibit discrimination based on race, gender, age, disability, religion, or other protected characteristics in the workplace. Employers are required to provide equal opportunities to all employees.

Health and Safety Regulations: Employers must provide and maintain social services for their workers as the Central Government deems appropriate. These services may include:

inappropriate and appropriate bathing facilities for male and female employees separately;

bathrooms and locker rooms for male, female, and transgender staff separately;

housing arrangements for all mandatory labour;

non-removable cabinets or first aid boxes with easily accessible contents at all times of operation; and

any other social security measures that the Central Government deems necessary, subject to the circumstances, as required by the appropriate standard of living of these workers.

Furthermore, the Central Government has the authority to order, among other things, the provision of

(i) cleanliness and hygiene;

(ii) air, heat, and humidity;

(iii) an irreversible level of humidity;

(iv) drinking water;

(v) unfavourable lighting;

(vi) irreversible standards to prevent congestion, and so on.

Conclusion: 

Considering labour law from a legal perspective offers us an understanding of how it functions as a balancing act between employees’ rights and employer obligations. Labour law serves as the backbone of any working society, addressing the power dynamics inherent in labour relations. Robust labour laws can help ensure a fair, safe, and equitable working society where every contribution is respected and valued. As society and work structures continue to evolve, labour laws must adapt, striving to balance employee protection with employer interests in a manner that fosters productivity, innovation, and social justice.

[hwaightme]

Avaritia

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

⚫ pairing: ceo/sugar daddy!hongjoong x assistant/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut... just smut really ⚫ summary: everything has a price, but sugar makes this truth so much sweeter. no matter what he says, hongjoong will buy that new purse for you, will flaunt you in front of his business partners, and will make sure you know you are his. ⚫ wordcount: 8.3k ⚫ warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, tried to edit - lost it - bon appetit, language, teasing, on a flight, a lot of money, wealth, first world, brand name dropping harder than San in the logs, hj is a sweetheart, mc is needy but in denial, full avarice mode lmk if anything else, nsfw tags and playlist rec under the cut ⚫ taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ⚫ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ⚫ a/n: Sometimes, I am calm. Other times (read 'all the time) I am getting wrecked by everyone in ATEEZ. Here is what Balmain Joong did to me. Any comments, reblogs much loved; we spiraled into madness (hail sucrose pop, glucose father joong lol)

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me…  so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

What was it that you were truly greedy for?

[concentrateandpush]

We have a tradition.. in our group of friends. Every birthday we have a sleepover, we’ve done this since we were 4, that won’t change, the three of us get along too well. We’ve always told each other secrets, funny stories, our crushes, but there is one secret I’ve kept from my friends.

It’s late, 1AM but we usually try to stay up as late as possible. Carly’s Mom is at work and her dad passed away when she was little. Eloise is a little tipsy, as usual, seeing as Carly’s Mom has a cupboard of Malibu and vodka. I was tempted not to come, I’ve been cramping all day but I know how mad they would be, plus with the snow, what else is a 9 months pregnant single girl going to do on a Saturday.

I didn’t want to tell them that I’m pregnant because they’d talk about how Steve is a bad influence and how I was a virgin until I met him, how he stole me away for one sleepover last year, they’re right but I don’t need it. I just thought keeping it to myself would be a good idea, until now. “I.. I just need to use the bathroom” I mutter under my breath as I get up and run off.

Fumbling for my phone, I text Mom “I’m at Carly’s, come get me” but the service is down.

The pain is building, kind of like a period pain but in my back and my stomach. I find myself rubbing my belly fast and hard as if it’ll help, but I can’t get it to stop.

“Hey, Carly? You okay?” Sarah asks as she knocks the door, Sarah is Carly’s older sister. “Carly??” She asks again. “Uh.. it’s Lena” I admit, trying to control my breathing.

“Oh, Lena, are you okay? You sound like you’re out of breath?” She asks and I quickly get myself together before opening the door. “Sorry” I say quietly. She heads in and I hear her making noises “Lena, did you pee on the floor?” She asks, disgusted and I freeze, realising my waters broke. “I-I’m sorry I can clean it up” I say before heading in and grabbing some paper, kneeling to wipe it. I let out a small groan as I feel a twinge in my left lower abdomen.

“Lena, are you okay?” She asks and I nod “f-fine” as I wipe up. “Lena, I’ve known you since you were practically a baby and something is up” she probes and I shake my head, wishing for the pain to not come as hard as I know it will. I find my hand gripping the toilet seat as I start to contract. “P-please don’t tell them” I mumble, taking deep slow breaths.

“Tell them what?” She asks, lowering herself to me, looking at my face and down to my belly. “I..” I start and she shakes her head “Lena.. you’re not? You’re fucking pregnant?” She exclaims. “I knew you’d gotten chunkier but.. oh sweetheart, you’re-“ she stops and realised “you’re not in labour? Right?” She asks and I plead for help with my eyes.

“Shit, okay.. right” she nods “Lena..” she sighs “what are we going to do with you..” she says softly before taking me into her arms. I lean in and just let her hold me before it gets worse and I start involuntarily panting, gripping her shirt. “Okay, okay Lena, I need you to sit back for me” she says calmly and I shake my head “I’m scared, it hurts, it’s coming” I mutter.

“Right, I know you don’t want them to know but they will, you’re not going to push a baby out quietly and you need comfort, we’re going to get you into the living room and onto the couch” she sighs and I just agree, I need to get it out. “Carly! Eloise?!” She shouts and they come in, seeing the room and cluelessly staring.

“Okay, Lena is in labour, which I know is a big shock for you both, but we need to help her deliver this baby” she explains “can you girls help me bring her to the couch?” She asks and they just do as she says, helping me up. Once I’m on my knees, I get another contraction, one much worse than the last and it doubles me over. “Nnggg” I grunt to myself, clutching my well hidden bump.

“Lena is this a joke?” Carly asks and I just shake my head, blowing breath into the air as I spread my legs under me “pressure” I mumble, looking to Sarah “so much pressure” I cry. “Couch” Sarah demands. Before I know it, they’re carrying me in and getting me on the couch which has been turned into a bed for the night.

“How did you hide this?!” Eloise asks and I just shake my head, gripping my leg and pulling it back, clothes still on. “Wait, wait a minute” Sarah says panicked as she can see I’m about to push with all my mite. “I can’t!” I cry out as I start to bear down in my pants, grunting and shaking like a leaf. “Lena!” She shouts and I stop, reaching down to hold myself, letting her strip me naked.

The second her eyes see my opening, they widen and I see the fear. “That’s a head” Carly says, shocked and Eloise gazes “that’s a head!?” She asks and Carly nods “look, the pink thing inside, a head” she says confidently and I just start to sob. “You were right about Steve, he wanted me to get rid of it but I just couldn’t” I cry. “Okay, okay, we understand, Lena, we do” Carly sighs as she comes next to me, wiping my forehead.

“It’s coming” I grunt as I grip my thigh, ready to experience this whole situation. “Okay, deep breath and push” Sarah tells me and I nod, pulling my chin to my chest as I just scream the baby down. I feel every single centimetre of the head coming down, ripping me, tearing me open. “More” she says quickly and I shake my head, letting go of my legs as I try to catch my breath.

“I can’t do this.. I can’t do it” I cry, rubbing my bump in small circles. “You have no choice Lena, the roads are covered and you have a baby coming out of you, you have to do this, you need to push it out” Sarah says sternly. “You’re so strong, Lena.. your body is meant to do this and you can absolutely push your baby out, just push” Eloise smiles reassuringly and I sigh, already exhausted.

I gulp a deep breath down and try to grab my thighs, pulling my legs up until Eloise grabs one and Carly the other “Push your baby out!” Carly smiles and I try, so fucking hard, to no avail. I’m sweating, I’m crying and my whole body is throbbing but I just can’t get it out.

“Why can’t I do it?!” I wail and Sarah sighs “patience.. you’re getting there” she smiles and I just look to the girls, my eyes begging them to keep my legs up “here it comes” I whisper softly as I start to lean into it. “Gaahhh!” I cry, pushing as hard as I can for as long as my body will allow. “Give.. birth!” I cry out, reaching down and pulling myself open.

“It’s not working” Sarah explains as I hopelessly reach for my Stanley for a sip of water. “I need you to stand..” she sighs and I nod, getting up and standing, opening my legs to make room for baby to come out. “So you’re going to squat a little with the push” she says and I nod, grabbing onto Carly as I swing my hips. “Come on baby, please let me push you out.. it’s just pushing it’s not that hard, I can get you out, I will push you out” I whisper as I pep talk myself.

“Heee heee, hoo hoo, heee heee, hoo HOO” I breathe as I start to feel it coming. My legs part naturally as I begin my pushing attempt, holding onto Carly as I feel my vagina spread. “It’s working!” Eloise smiles and I nod, reaching down to feel my baby’s head.

“Holy fuck!” I cry as I feel burning “fuck, fuck, fuck!” I mutter. “You’re crowning!” Sarah smiles and I just find myself going to my hands and knees, moaning like a cow. “That’s it, vocalise all you want” she smiles as Eloise rubs my back. “Please, please get it out” I moan, shaking as I try to hold myself up.

“Lena, it’s time to push” Carly tells me as I find myself almost falling asleep, exhausted from all the work I’ve put in so far. I just bear down, trying to push through the pain. The noises I’m making are animalistic and in all honesty I’m embarrassed. “Focus, Lena” Sarah demands and I nod, trying to find words to say I need to move.

I fall into a position on my side, holding my leg up and pushing for around an hour, it’s unbearable. Until finally, “the head! It’s here, the head is out” Eloise exclaims. “Push! Push!!” Sarah screams and I do exactly that, groaning, grunting and sweating as I feel my baby escape my body and come into the world.

[oleksiak-pettersson]

Pick Me - Elias Pettersson

howdy hey everybody! It's been a hot minute... sorry not sorry.

this is the first part of a three part series i've been cooking up in my head for a few years now. I want to emphasize that this is set in a completely fictional world and is complete AU. The Canucks featured in this fic don't play hockey in the story. The timeline is also not accurate to real life.

warnings: angst, a certain celebrity featured as the villain, pregnancy, labour, swearing, this is an AU, only Quinn still plays hockey, almost cheating, emotional cheating in a way (will be expanded on more in the next parts)

word count: 4.5k

Pick Me | Choose Me | Love Me

There’s nothing better than the warmth of a comforter wrapped around your body. You pull it closer around your body, not caring if it leaves your lover without.

Your eyes blink open slowly, arms clutching the pregnancy pillow to your chest, comforter wrapped around the pillow and over your body.

As your eyes blink open, once, twice, a third time, you notice that at some point in your restful slumber, you’d stolen the comforter completely from your husband. Never one to complain, Elias must’ve grabbed the second duvet from the hall closet.

Your husband is lingering in the bathroom, you can hear the sink running as he goes about his morning routine.

He must notice you moving, as he approaches softly. He’s freshly showered and the smile on his face is soft and mellow in the morning light.

“Hi,” you murmur, taking in his beauty as it’s illuminated by the golden sun. His blue eyes twinkle with fondness as they take in your sleepy form.

You stretch a little, turning over to the side of the bed he sits on. His hand comes up and brushes a stray eyelash from your cheek. He holds it up to show you and let you make a wish, a simple gesture you taught him in your early stages of dating. There’s a kind of tenderness to his touch that no one else could quite possess.

“Hi.” Elias smiles back, hand falling from your face to hold yours. “How did you sleep?”

“So good, these two didn’t move a bit.” You prop yourself up against the headboard, free hand coming to rest on your belly.

“Probably too exhausted from kicking you all day yesterday,” Elias jokes, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours. It’s a soft and sweet kiss. His mouth is minty fresh from brushing his teeth and it makes you smile.

He’s slow to pull away and you chase his mouth as he goes. He chuckles softly, hand caressing your cheek. 

“I’ve got to go meet Brock and Quinn soon for golf, I made you breakfast, it’s on the counter,” he announces, standing back up and stretching.

“What no in bed delivery? The service here sucks,” you lilt, the teasing evident in your voice. Ever the drama Queen, Elias rolls his eyes leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be back this afternoon, call or text if you need anything.” And with that he’s out the door.

You stretch as you get up, your back cracks and your belly feels heavier than normal. You feel like you’re resting lower than yesterday and there’s a weird feeling settling in your gut. You shake it off though, pulling on your lounging outfit. Your doctor had warned you about Braxton hicks contractions and you were sure that this feeling in your belly had to be that.

Your due date was fast approaching and you couldn’t wait. Pregnancy is hard enough but when you’re carrying twins it’s a whole other beast. You’re incredibly lucky to have such a kind partner who has taken such good care of you. Elias’ job as a content creator allows him to control his hours, unlike his good friend Quinn who captains the local Vancouver NHL team and whose schedule is rigid with intense travel.

It’s a slow waddle to the kitchen and you take it slow. One of your cats lounges in the middle of the hallway and you have to gently nudge her from your path with your foot. She mewls in uproar but does nothing to stop her movement. You have to lean against the wall in support to move her and your stomach twists once again. You take a breather against the wall, staring up at the popcorn ceiling.

Upon finally reaching the kitchen, you feel the need to sit down. The kitchen island chairs look incredibly unsupportive and the kitchen table has the worst chairs for relaxing. You let out a huff at the idea of having to move into the living room.

Your breakfast is still warm and you bring it into the living room to relax on the couch. The pain isn’t slowing down but instead seems to be moving up your back.

It’s just Braxton Hicks, you think. There’s no way I’m going into labour.

You find a comfortable position on the couch and rest your plate on your belly. Your feet come up to rest on the coffee table and you flick through the channels. 

The scrambled eggs and toast is just what you needed. The pain in your gut quells a little and you find the perfect spot on the couch to rest. There’s a throw blanket hanging on the back of the couch and you pull it over yourself.

Both cats follow your lead and curl up near you on the couch. You hold your hand out trying to call either into your lap, but neither take the bait. You sigh, moving slightly in an attempt to tuck the blanket under yourself but giving up quickly as you tire.

The curtains that cover the living room windows are wide open and the light from the mild spring day is bright but you can’t find it in yourself to get up. The simplest of actions, getting up and getting food, have exhausted you and your eyelids begin to feel heavy.

//

You wake up with a jolt of pain that causes your whole body to cease. The groan that leaves your mouth causes both cats to jump up from the couch and disappear down the hall.

The pain is intense and you briefly can’t move. It’s over as quick as it came on. You sit up on the couch trying to regulate your breathing. Your heart is racing as you throw the blanket off of your body and stand up. 

There’s no more denying it. You’re in labour. You need to find your phone and get a hold of your husband. It’s time.

The waddle down the hallway back to your bedroom feels like an eternity, you know there’s time before your next contraction will ripple through your body but you still feel a bit panicked. You twist your wedding ring around your finger as you go, trying anything to calm the fog of anxiety that’s beginning to descend around you.

Your phone is where you left it the night before, on the nightstand still plugged in to the charger. You’ve got a single notification, a text from Elias’ coworker Natasha Dion, inviting you out for brunch next week.

But there’s no time to respond to her. You need Elias. You perch yourself on the bed, legs holding you up as you focus on your phone.

You quickly unlock the phone, your face ID failing you - forcing a password attempt that you’re not too sure how you even managed to get the numbers correct. You close the instagram app sloppily, a leftover from last night's pre-bed scrolling session, and open your phone app.

Elias’ contact is the most recent number you’ve called and you waste no time clicking on it.

The phone dials up and the line begins to ring. You stifle a sob and try to take a deep breath as the line continues to ring. Your free hand cradles your belly. One of the twins moves beneath your hand, causing a little chuckle to leave your mouth.

“Mama will see you soon,” you murmur, the line continuing to ring in your ear.

Suddenly there’s a beep and Elias’ voice comes through. “Hey, you’ve reached Petey. Can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Shit,” you curse and then the beep sounds through. “Hi babe, it's me. Um, I think I’m in labour and I need you to get home uh, right away? Call me back please.”

You take another breath, trying to remember what they taught you in Lamaze class. You flick through your brain trying to recall the class you practised breathing. You can see the teacher saying something in your mind but you can’t hear it, you were too focussed on the feeling of your husband's rock hard abs against your back. It certainly hadn’t helped your breathing, to the point that the teacher had come over and corrected your breathing. Again though, Elias’ breath on your shoulder had distracted you.

Goddamn your sexy husband and his too-hot-to-handle existence. 

You decide to send him a text too.

To Hubby: Hi babe, can you call when you can? I’m pretty sure I’m in labour…

Another contraction convulses through your body. Your spine feels like it’s on fire and your belly tightens. You cry out vocally, trying to breathe rhythmically. You let yourself fall back against the pillows, just trying to get through the pain. You dig your fingers into the comforter, eyes screwing shut. It’s way worse than any period cramp you’ve ever had and you find yourself cursing your husband under your breath. Of course he can’t fucking be reached right now. Asshat.

Once the pain eases, you force yourself back up and grab your phone. There’s no new notifications and you resist the urge to cry. Then it hits you, Elias is golfing with Brock and Quinn. Brock’s phone is always on, something about never wanting to miss a call from his agent for the next big Hollywood hit or whatever, you don’t care about his reasoning right now but you’re thankful for him.

The phone starts to ring and you click the speaker phone option. It rings once before there's an answer. God bless Brock.

“Hello gorgeous mother of my future godchildren, how are you?” He answers, charming as always. 

“Hey Brock,” You chuckle at his greeting, trying to hide the tinge of pain behind your voice. “Can you give the phone to Elias? He’s not picking up and I think I’m in labour.”

There’s a pause on the other end and some shuffling. You think you can hear Bella in the background asking what's going on, that causes you to furrow your eyebrows. Why would Bella be golfing with them? She hates it as much as you do. Then you hear the phone being grabbed from Brock’s grip as he cries out a loud “hey!’.

“Babes, Petey isn’t here with us?” Bella states, sounding equally as confused as you.

“Put it on speaker,” Brock demands in the background, not as loud as Bella. The sound of the phone shifts slightly as she switches it.

“He said he was golfing with you and Quinn today.” You reply, groaning as another shockwave of pain runs over you. You groan loudly into the phone. The pain causes you to drop the phone on the bed and forget the phone call as you try to breathe it out.

“That’s impossible because Quinn is in-” Brock counters, slightly oblivious to your pain. You love him to death but he can be such a blonde sometimes.

“Brock, it doesn’t matter right now,” You can hear the annoyance in his girlfriend’s voice as she interrupts his thoughts. Her focus is quickly back on you. “Y/N, are you in labour?”

The cry of anguish you respond with clues her in immediately. She springs into action on the other side of the phone. “Brock, get the keys. We have to get her to the hospital.”

“No.” You cry out, pain subsiding slightly. 

“Y/N, babes, you’re in labour,” Bella levels, her calmest and most rational voice on full display. It’s what you need right not but the irrational part of your brain doesn’t want to leave without your husband. “Brock will keep calling Elias but we need to get you to the hospital.”

“Okay,” you relent, getting up from the bed slowly, you pick your phone up and head for the nursery.

“Do you need me to stay on the phone with you?” She asks, Brock is in the background stomping around the apartment. Anyone unfamiliar with the actor would think he’s mad, but knowing him, you know that’s just simply the way he moves. A lot less elegance than he looks like he may possess. 

“Yes please.”

///

In the time it takes Brock and Bella to get to your apartment, you manage to change and grab your go-bag before letting yourself relax on the couch. You achieved all of this between crippling contractions. 

Your favourite two people in the world let themselves in with the key they have to your apartment. They have sympathetic looks on their faces as they take in the sight of you on the couch. 

You must look like a mess, you’re sweaty and stressed. “Hi,” is all you manage from your spot.

“Hi gorgeous, ready to go become a mama?” Bella coos, squatting down in front of you. There’s a glimmer of excitement in her eyes and you can feel it now too. It’s slowly becoming real. You nod, holding out your arms so she can help you up. You brace against her arms as you get up, smiling gratefully.

Brock stands behind her sheepishly, flitting with his phone. His thumbs are moving a mile a minute and you hope to god that he’s talking to Elias and Elias is on the way.

“Is Elias going to meet us there?” There’s hope in your eyes that slightly breaks Brock’s heart.

In a split second decision, he lies. “Of course, so we should get going.”

Truth is, Brock has no fucking clue where his best friend is. He has no fucking clue why Elias lied about being with him. He sure as hell knows he’s going to chew out Elias’s ass the moment he tracks the Swede down.

The lie does seem to pacify you and Brock is quick to be at your side and help you to the car, Bella follows along behind, having grabbed the go bag. Brock leads you down the hallway as his girlfriend locks the apartment. 

///

Brock has never been more stressed in his life. He was once looking forward to having children of his own with his beautiful girlfriend but after driving you to the hospital in the state you were in, he’s not so sure. You cried out in pain nearly every 8 minutes on the way, Vancouver traffic never one to be considerate of a crisis.

The screaming from the back of his car had Brock white-knuckling the steering wheel and peaking sheepishly in the rearview mirror at Bella holding your hand. The pale look on his face nearly caused Bella to laugh, until you gripped her hand harder, head thrown back against the seat headrest. 

Between glancing back to make sure you’re okay and glancing at his Apple CarPlay in hopes of a response from your husband, Brock was struggling to pay attention to the road. 

Not the best attitude to take when driving a pregnant woman to the hospital. It caused your anxiety to skyrocket and Bella to yell at Brock which certainly did not help the situation.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Brock is quick to let you and Bella out at the emergency entrance, before circling around to go find a parking spot.

Bella has your elbow in her arm, supporting you as she guides you to the entrance. Your go-bag is over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” You murmur between breaths. The gratitude is quickly overtaken by a contraction though and you stop dead in the middle of the entryway, paralyzed with pain. Bella is quick to hold you up.

“Breathe, just like this,” her lips purse and she blows out her breath in a weird pattern. You copy along as a nurse approaches you. You recognize her as the nurse who does your check-ups.

“Hi Mrs. Pettersson, looks like we’re having these babies,” She smiles, coming to your other side and helping Bella guide you to the wheelchair an orderly brought over. You just nod your head, trying to follow along with Bella’s breathing technique. 

The orderly begins pushing you along to a room, the nurse lags behind with Bella. The nurse has a look of concern on her face as she turns to Bella.

“Where is Elias?” She inquires, she’d always admired how dedicated your partner was during check-ups. He always had questions and a detailed list of what you’d been experiencing since the last check-up. It had taken her by surprise when he wasn’t there but ever the professional, she’d schooled her shock.

“I don’t know, he should be arriving soon.” Bella supplies, speeding up to keep up with you.

The nurse nods her head and heads back to her station to grab her gear. Brock comes rushing through the door, spotting his girlfriend lingering outside of your room. 

The nurse slides between them to get into your room, the door is cracked as she begins to get you ready. Bella brings your go-bag in as you get changed into an IV-compatible gown. She plugs in your phone charger and checks to see if there’s an update from Elias. Your phone only shows a text from your mom. 

“Y/N, your mom texted, should I let her know?” She calls out to you.

Your reply comes muffled through the bathroom door. “Yes please.”

Both Bella and the nurse chuckle at your response. Bella is quick to shoot off the text, eyes lingering on where Brock is pacing outside the room. His phone is in one hand and the other is pulling at his gorgeous blonde locks in what can only be described as one of the most stressed actions she’s ever seen.

As you settle in the hospital bed and the nurse begins to fasten different machines to you. You’re oblivious to the stress emanating off of the actor outside of your room as you relax between contractions.

“Is it too late for an epidural?” You inquire sheepishly. Your nurse laughs.

Bella excuses herself and slips outside. She swears she shuts the door as she joins Brock outside. They can still see into your room, you’re chatting politely with your nurse as she fixes the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.

“Do you know when Elias will be here?” She asks softly.

Brock’s face drops as he turns away from the window. He’s seen your lipreading skills before and even though you’re distracted, he’s not taking the risk. “No.”

“Well what did he say when you talked to him?” Bella inquires, eyebrow peaked in interest. She also turns away from the window.

“I didn’t.” Brock says, eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t know where Elias is.”

“But you said-”

“I needed to keep her calm,” Brock makes eye contact with Bella, the love for you is clear behind his eyes and she softens at the admission. “She can’t know that he’s not coming.”

“He’s not coming,” Bella repeats, trying to wrap her head around the fact.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Your voice sounds from behind them; you’re standing in the doorway, gown-clad and attached to a mobile IV unit. The look of shock on your face breaks both Brock and Bella’s hearts. Your voice grows quieter. “You said he was coming”.

Brock reaches out to comfort you but you’re now freaking out like he’s never seen before. The heart rate monitor spikes and the nurse in the room rushes to get you into bed.

There’s so much emotion flowing through your body. You’re hyperventilating and want to scream. No one is prepared for the way you pass out. Brock and your nurse lunge to catch you, struggling to get you into the hospital bed.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Brock is also freaking out now.

The nurse has no time for him though as she reaches for a large red button on the wall. Bella stands idly in the doorway watching the chaos unfold. She’s frozen in shock, unsure what just happened and what she needs to do.

The nurse is quick to spring into action, and she peers over her shoulder at your two companions. “You both need to get out of here. We have to take her to the operating room.”

///

Elias’ phone is on the counter in the other room. He’d placed it on the kitchen counter as soon as he’d entered Vanessa’s luxury penthouse. He’d had to dance around baby toys sprawled around the floor but it made him chuckle thinking about how your apartment would soon look like that.

Elias had met Vanessa Morgan a year and a half ago when he and Natasha had helped with creating some ads for Riverdale’s production team. He kept his friendship with the actress on the lowdown from you. You’d been suspicious of her since you’d met her. She seemed weirdly obsessed with your husband, but Petey thought of her as a friend.

He’d offered to help her set up some of the baby furniture she hadn’t had the chance to before she’d had her baby three months ago. 

He’d already finished the changing table and the glider chair. Elias was working on the crib, the instructions almost confusing to him. He’d had no trouble putting the twin’s cribs together. To Elias, it was something a father-to-be should take pride in. 

It’s why Elias stepped up for Vanessa. Her baseball player husband had left her early in her pregnancy. He couldn’t comprehend how a man could up and abandon his family with no hesitation.

“How’s it going in here?” The short actress asks from the doorway. She’d just finished putting her little guy down for a nap, thankful she’d been wise enough to buy a bassinet for her bedroom for her baby’s first few months.

“I think you may have bought the most complicated crib in the world,” Elias laughs, looking up at his friend with a playful smile. “Did he go down for his nap easily?”

Vanessa nods, strutting into the room, she admires the other pieces of furniture he’s built in his couple of hours helping her. “I’m surprised you’re not with your wife today.”

Elias hums, his focus back on trying to fit the pieces together. “What do you mean?”

“She’s getting close to her due date, isn’t she?” She inquires, there’s a tone to her voice that Elias can’t quite place. The tone he can't quite place? Smugness. The kind of hubris possessed by a woman with ill-intentions.

“Yeah but all the boys in my family have arrived late,” Elias insists, twisting the screw driver. “She’ll be fine.”

Vanessa could point out that his wife is carrying twins and therefore more likely to have her babies early but why would she force Elias back into his wife’s arms? No, she’d much rather keep him to herself for as long as possible.

While Elias might think of Vanessa as his friend, Vanessa thinks of Elias in a less pg way. She’d been wanting to get into his pants since the first time they met. Of course she was married at the time, but it had never stopped her before. 

“You know, that looks like hard work,” She starts, adopting her most sensual voice. She’s determined to reel him in. “Why don’t I make you a snack?”

Elias is quick to agree and they both proceed to the kitchen. He leans against the kitchen counter as she scuttles around the kitchen. Vanessa hands him a glass of water that he accepts happily and sips slowly as he watches her.

“How’s the show going?” He asks, as she gathers condiments from the fridge.

She smiles at him, placing her ingredients down on the counter beside him. “It’s good, they’ve been really good about me staying back with River.”

Elias nods, thinking about how easy it’ll be for him to help out with the twins with his job that he can work from home. “That’s awesome. You’ve got a good support system, hey?”

“Yeah, I’m extremely grateful for everyone in my life,” Vanessa puts her butter knife down on the counter, turning to Elias and moving closer to him. She places a hand on his chest and begins to trail her fingers along the ridges of his body. “Especially you, you’ve been so good to me.”

Elias freezes, this must be what you meant when you said Vanessa had a weird energy to her when it came to him. She leans in close, and he can feel her breath on his face. He’s briefly amazed that such a short person can reach him so easily but then she closes her eyes and leans in.

He’s saved by the bell. Okay, maybe not quite a bell but the loud, shrill ringing of his phone is a close enough substitute. He dodges out of her reach to grasp his phone. Brock’s profile picture is on display and once he’s certain she’s not following him, he clicks the green connect button before retreating into the living room with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Hello?” Elias says into the phone, silently thanking whatever deity he can that Brock saved him.

“Dude where the fuck are you?” Brock starts, he sounds panicked and Elias is instantly worried. “Actually, I don’t fucking care. You need to get down to Vancouver General now.”

“Why? Brock, what’s going on?” Elias demands, pacing around the living room.

“Your wife went into labour. After finding out you weren’t coming, she passed out and had to be rushed into an emergency c-section to save the babies.” Brock recites robotically. Elias has never heard his best friend so angry at him. 

Then Brock’s words hit him. His heart stops, and he jolts to. “I’ll be right there.”

///

Elias is quiet as Brock and Bella lead him to your room. Neither of them could truly look at him after he’d told them where he was. He couldn’t blame them.

He was a bit of a wreck. He’d driven over the speed limit to get to you. He hadn’t been there when you needed him and something could’ve happened to you or your babies.

Your room is also quiet. There’s a small whimper coming from one of the bundles in your arms. He stops dead in his tracks, seeing you holding your twins is everything he’s ever wanted. You, the love of his life, with his children. And he missed their arrival.

“Hi,” He says, finally. He’d stood in the doorway somberly long after Brock and Bella had headed home. He’s sure Brock has already informed Quinn of what happened, that’s why his phone is blowing up in his pocket.

“Hello,” you reply coldly, without even looking up at him. Your eyes remain on your sweet boys the entire time. You’d known he was standing there since the moment Brock and Bella led him there.

Your reply is a sharp contrast to the way you’d been with him this morning. It’s shocking to Elias how a single day can change everything in a mere matter of hours.

“So, we’ve got sons.” He starts, dragging his feet on the floor as he walks over to occupy the seat beside your bed.

“Well, we knew that already.” You deadpan, finally looking up at him. There’s pure hurt behind your eyes and Elias wants to reach out and hold you but he knows better.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You scoff. “Whatever.” 

Elias reaches for a baby and you hand him one.

“I’m here now and I’m not leaving.” He says, sure of himself. It’s too bad you don’t believe him.

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