#just in case another tag ready to go

[sisterdivinium]

I did some gushing over WN on Dreamwidth for the Snowflake Challenge if anyone is interested.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dog Tags (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When a mission goes wrong, Bucky gets his Dog Tags back.

Disclaimer: This is part three for one and two. Mentions of serious injuries, blood and being hospitalised. Angst, bit of fluff here and there, hurt/comfort, Bucky stays by reader's side. Sam giving Bucky his own reality check, platonic!Wanda, swearing. Left kinda open ended in case I decide to write part four? Not Proof Read.

Bucky stared down at the dog tags in his hands, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the blood stained letters. He had to take a deep breath before the tears started flowing again. 

You were meant to be on a simple recon mission. You’d done them a thousand times. Maybe you’d come back with a bruise or two, but you still came back. 

This time, his phone had rung throughout his room just as the clock turned 4:00 am. An agent had found the tags on her person. They knew they weren’t hers, but they were definitely someone’s. 

Bucky had gotten to the hospital in under an hour. You’d still been in surgery by the time he arrived, but the nurses had brought out your personal belongings in a large plastic bag. 

Your clothes; blood stained to hell. Your Shield issued weapons were empty of bullets. Whatever had happened, you’d emptied your clip, plus your three backups. Your knife lay at the bottom of the bag, stained with blood, too. 

Bucky couldn’t work out if it was yours or someone else's. But he did know one thing for certain. The blood that lay splattered over his tags, as he pulled the chain from the bag, was yours. You never wore them outside of your uniform. You kept them close to your chest. It couldn’t be anyone else's. 

Bucky had left a message at Hill’s desk, as well with Sam explaining what had happened. What he knew, at least. Hill was sending someone to the mission base to find out more. 

“Mr Barnes?”

Bucky took in a deep breath as he stood up, clasping the tags in his palm. Maybe if he squeezed tightly enough, he’d be able to feel you. 

“Yes.”

“Your wife is now out of surgery. We’ll be keeping her under observation for the foreseeable, but once she’s situated in a room, you’ll be able to sit with her.” The Doctor told him. 

Bucky just nodded. “Do you know what happened?”

“I know it’s not common, but I’ll bring you her more detailed medical chart.” They told him. “There was too much extensive damage to talk about off the top of my head.”

Those words hit Bucky in the chest, harder than anything else had ever done. 

“But she’ll-” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to talk. 

The Doctor just nodded. “She’s going to need a lot of physical therapy. Thankfully nothing broke within her legs, but the damage to her muscles will make her training a lot harder than it should be for a while.”

Bucky nodded. 

“But she’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

The Doctor nodded. “Thank you for the tags.”

Bucky was a little confused as he followed the doctor’s finger, pointing to his hand. The dog tags? Why was she thanking him for the dog tags?

“If your wife hadn’t been wearing them, we wouldn’t have known who to contact.”

Wife.

Bucky felt himself chuckle inside. If you were awake and could hear the doctor now, you’d have probably made some disgusted eye roll and comment over being even associated with him. 

“Oh, yeah.”

The Doctor smiled. “I’ll come and get you when she’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

She just nodded with another soft smile before walking away. Twenty minutes later, he was being walked down the hallway where he stood outside of your room for ten minutes before opening up the door. 

You had at least a dozen wires hooked up to you, aside from the standard hospital gear. Bucky just stared at the monitor for a while, watching your heartbeat print onto paper. 

Eventually, he sat in the chair beside your bed and looked at you. In that moment, he’d give anything to have you yell at him. Cuss him out, threaten him, roll your eyes…anything. 

“They…” Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at the tags in his hand. “They told me you should still be able to hear me…and that talking helps. I know you’re probably mad it’s me who’s here, but you can’t blame me for this one, doll.” 

A weak chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as he looked from his hand and to your sleeping frame. “They think we’re married, by the way. Mostly because of the dog tags they found on you. I’ve…I’ve got em’ right here. They’re safe. You’re safe, doll. Just…just kinda need you to wake up soon. Maybe tell me to piss off. Not that I’d leave you anyway, but that’s kinda our thing, right? Fighting?”

Bucky went silent for a while as he looked at you. 

“I need you to fight me, sweetheart.” Bucky told you. “So you’ve gotta mend and pull through all of this. Whatever happened out there in the field…that’s not the end of your story. It can’t be. I won’t let it.”

Bucky could hear your voice in his head. “You’d don’t have a choice in it, Barnes.”. 

Bucky told you a few more things, like how he’d called both Hill and Sam. He told you that he’d text Wanda, “She’ll get it once she lands. I’m sure she’ll be flying through that window soon.”

But, eventually, he stopped talking. He just let the sound of your steady heart fill the room. It was proof you were still alive. You were still here. 

On the days where Bucky couldn’t sit with you, Wanda took his place. Or Kate. Or Sam. On the odd occasion, Joaquin sat with you. Bucky had walked in on plenty of PowerPoint presentations of how his suit was better than Sam’s old one. 

But when he did sit with you, his mind would wander to memories of you and him. Like the training room when he’d told you he knew you had his dog tags, or when he’d helped you when you got hurt a few months back. 

But one stuck out to him in particular. Plenty stuck out to him as time ticked by, but he was reminded of this one as he looked at the side table beside your bed. Your knife lay on top, still in its protective covering. 

Less than three weeks before you’d landed in hospital, Bucky had been training with you. 

The main noises being made were grunts. As you hit his chest, as he knocked your legs down, as you twisted his arm, as he flipped you onto the mat, as you kicked his legs from beneath him, as you both rolled across the mats before you landed on top, trapping him in place. 

“Give in yet?”

“Do you?”

You were about to question what he meant, but then you felt it. Cold and sharp; he had your knife, again. But this time, it was pointed against your side. 

“What?” You hesitated for a second and looked away. Bucky took his opportunity. 

In two simple moves, you were on your back staring up at him with your own knife gently pressed against your skin. 

“Give in.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his glowing smirk. “Yes. Fine. Now get off me.” 

Bucky chuckled and stood up, lowering his hand down to help you up. At first, you swatted it away. But he held it out again, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, you accepted it and he helped you stand. “You’re focusing too much. Too in your head. You need to relax.” 

Bucky flipped the knife over in his hand so he was pinching the sharp blade. He handed it over to you and you swiped it up. “Thanks.” Your voice grunted a little before you placed your knife back in its place. 

“You know, if you wanted to, you could train with me more often.” Bucky offered as he walked away. “I know you and I are…whatever we are. But I have training that isn’t exactly found in a Shield manual.”

“I’m fine.” You said, avoiding looking at him as he stood with his back to you. You had stared at him in this fashion one too many times. It was only a short time before someone caught you doing so. Even worse if it was Bucky. 

“It’s not an issue. Hell, we don’t have to even talk-”

“I said I’m fine.” You didn’t mean to raise your voice when you spoke to him. You regretted it instantly. You sighed. “Look, I know you mean well. And, thank you. But I’m okay.”

Bucky watched you, over his shoulder. You walked away from the mats, grabbed your water bottle and sat down on one of the opposite benches. 

“What is it?” 

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me or something?”

You sighed. “Bucky.”

“I get you and I don’t exactly get along-”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” you cut him off. “I just-” 

You gave a short sigh. There were so many reasons why it wouldn’t work if he was the one to train you. He wouldn’t know it, but you’d become more distracted by him. And for some reason it was written into the heavens that if you and Bucky spent more than ten minutes alone together, things in the air started to get…close. Too close. 

But the main thing was your undisclosed feelings for the super annoying, massive pain in your ass, super soldier. The longer you spent around him, so close to him, the harder they were getting to manage. 

It was only a matter of time before he figured out the truth. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

Bucky watched you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

You just nodded. 

Later that evening, Bucky had been with Wanda. And he’d been avoiding the topic of you ever since he walked through the front door. 

“Did something happen between you two?” Wanda just flat out asked him. 

“No. Nothing happened.”

“You’re sulking, so I know something happened.”

Bucky shrugged. “She just doesn’t want my help. I’ve tried being nice. But she’s just so…her. It’s annoying.”

Wanda nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna need more information than just…you not handling your school boy crush very well.”

“I don’t-” Bucky shut his mouth as he whipped his head around to look at Wanda. “I don’t like her like that.”

“Doesn’t like who?” Sam asked as he walked through the door. 

“Bucky. Not liking Y/n.”

Sam just barked a laugh as he opened up the fridge and put his groceries away. “Ha! That’s a bullshit lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What-”

“Bucky,” Sam was practically laughing. “You’ve had a crush on her for god knows how long. I don’t know what twisted bullshit you both have going on that prevents you from talking like normal human beings, but even I know you saying you don’t like Y/n is nothing but a complete and utter bullshit lie.”

Bucky looked at Wanda for backup but she seemed to be on Sam’s side. 

“You know, maybe if you…I don’t know…talked to her rather than fight her-”

“She fights me!”

Sam just looked at him. “You fight each other.”

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her,” Wanda told him. “Might just clear a few things up.”

Sam sat down on the arm of the chair. “You’ve had feelings for her for a long time, Buck. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

Bucky just sighed. 

“How long have you guys been married?”

Bucky hadn’t noticed the nurse walk inside to your hospital room, at first. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry to ask,” she apologised as she changed out your IV and drew some blood. “It’s just…I’ve seen a lot of couples pass through these doors and I’m yet to see ones with a connection like yours.”

Bucky sat up. The nurse could read the confusion on his face from a mile away. 

She just stepped to the side and pointed at the print of the heart rate. 

“See these spikes here?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“These are from when you’ve been with her. It’s good they’re going up. It means she’s recognising her surroundings. At the very least, the people in it. You’re healing for her.”

Bucky just looked at your still sleeping frame. He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

The nurse smiled again. “How long have you two been married?”

“Not long,” Bucky answered. “But we’ve…we’ve known each other for years.”

The nurse smiled. “Who made the first move?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “She did. She saved my life.”

And you had. 

You’d been one of the new agents placed with the team. In the middle of a forest, Bucky had noticed every tripwire save for one. As something came flying over head, you’d swiped his legs from underneath him and pinned him down. 

“You’re welcome,” you whispered. 

That had been the first time Bucky had met you. It had also been the first time he’d looked you in the eyes. He could have happily drowned there and then. Which scared him. More than he knew what to deal with. 

“And now you’re here saving hers,” the nurse smiled. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Is there anything I can get you? Blankets, pillows?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“She’ll be okay, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky just nodded and watched as the nurse left. As he turned his head, that was when he noticed your chart. They still kept you as Y/n Barnes. Nobody, including Bucky, had bothered to correct them. If anything, it meant Bucky still learnt about your injuries and your healing process. 

It also meant he got access to stay with you for as long as he wanted. Which, if he didn’t have to work and if Sam didn’t come and drag him outside every few hours, he’d stay the whole time. 

It was a month or so more before you finally woke up. 

When Bucky had gotten a text from Joaquin telling him to get to the hospital quickly, he’d dropped what he was doing and came running down the hallway of the hospital ten minutes later. 

“What’s happening?”

“I-I don’t know.” Joaquin told him. “I was just holding her hand and she moved. Like, she squeezed my hand.”

“What?” Bucky moved past Joaquin and to your side, leaning his hand on the side headboard. 

“Y/n? Hey, doll? Can you hear me?”

Bucky held your hand in his. Nothing happened. “I know you don’t like me all that much, but if you can hear me, can you try and squeeze my hand?” 

Again, nothing.

Bucky looked at Joaquin. 

“I didn’t dream it.”

Bucky looked back at you. For a split second, he pushed some of your hair from your face. “Doll, if you’re awake, please. I just need you to squeeze my hand.”

Again, nothing. 

Until there was something.

“Go and get a nurse.”

“On it!” Joaquin practically flew out of the room. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Joaquin had been talking to you, telling you that you were gonna be okay. Then you heard Bucky’s voice which was quickly followed by a rough hand gently holding onto yours. 

And when you finally opened your eyes, you saw him. Standing beside your bed, holding your hand, looking like the world had finally started moving again. 

It was a few hours before you came around properly. And when you did, it felt a lot less hectic. Everything was peaceful and quiet. You had time to look around. There was a steady beeping somewhere. 

A heart monitor. 

You had different wires and tubes sticking out of you. The lights weren’t as bright as they’d been when you’d first woken up. 

But the thing that caught your eye the most was the sleeping frame of Bucky, hunched over your bed. Then you felt it. His hand, still in yours. 

You tried to squeeze his hand but eventually it hurt a little less and he stirred awake before shooting up. 

“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been out?”

Bucky answered you honestly. “Almost two months. The damage was extensive. Can you remember anything?”

You just nodded. “I think I blacked out after the building collapsed because I don’t remember anything after that.��

Bucky stood and pressed a button on the headboard of your bed before sitting beside you, clasping your hand in his. If it had been any other time, you would have taken your hand right back. 

But in that moment you needed comfort. You needed to feel safe. 

You felt safe with Bucky. 

But then you gasped. “Shit.”

“What? Are you hurt? What is it?”

You sat up and touched your chest and neck. “Your- your tags. I-”

Bucky just pulled the chain from his shirt. “There’s right here.”

You visibly relaxed but then you tensed as you watched Bucky remove them. “What are you doing?”

A small chuckle left him, “Just stay still, would you?”

“It’s not like I can exactly run away right now.”

Bucky smiled to himself before lifting the chain up and over your head. “There.”

You looked at him, wondering what he meant by all of it. “They’re your tags, Bucky.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I know they’re safe with you. They always looked better on you, anyway.”

Once Bucky knew you were okay, he’d wiped the rest of the tags clean. He’d been waiting to lay them back on you. He didn’t want to do it while you were sleeping. He needed you to fight him first. 

He needed proof you were alive. 

That was when the door opened and a nurse walked inside. “You’re awake! I must say, you nearly gave me and your husband a fright earlier. The doctor hadn’t predicted that you would wake up this early.”

You looked at Bucky and whispered, “Husband?”

“Just go with it,” he whispered back. 

It wasn’t until an hour or so, when both the Doctor and nurse had left, that you spoke to Bucky again. 

“You wanna tell me why we’re married?”

“They found my tags with you. They called me and…”

“You never corrected them?” You’d asked that question a lot calmer than Bucky had been expecting. 

“It meant I got to stay with you longer. And that they’d tell me what was going on.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Bucky.”

Bucky was honest with you. “I’m glad they called me first.”

You hand clutched the tags dangling from your neck. “They really thought you were my husband?”

Bucky chuckled. “If anything, the tags made sure you came home.”

In the silence as you and Bucky looked at each other, you felt the coolness of the metal in your palm. His tags had brought you home. His tags had brought him to you. His dog tags made sure you weren’t alone. And something told you Bucky had the same idea. 

Which was only confirmed when he attended almost every physio appointment with you. 

“How’s she doing, doc?”

The physio smiled as they held their arms up, in case you fell. “She’s doing great.”

“She’s tired and pissed off.” You answered truthfully. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I brought your favourite snacks from that store you and Kate found.”

Your hand gripped the two parallel bars as you slowly walked from one side to the other. “How the hell do you know about that store?”

“I asked Kate. She told me.”

As the phyio’s pager went off, Bucky offered to take over for a few minutes to help you. And, considering the medical staff still believed you and Bucky to be married, you’d both decided to just keep the act up. 

So, slowly walking beside you in case you fell, Bucky helped you turn around and walk back down the parallel bars. 

“How’ve you been feeling?”

“You mean other than tired and pissed off?”

“Yeah.”

“Sore,” you admitted. “Bored. I can’t wait to get back home.”

If Bucky was being honest, he would say the same thing. Even if you did spend more time fighting each other, he missed it. He missed you. 

“Neither can I.” The honesty slipped out from Bucky before he could think about any awkward consequences. 

You paused and looked at him. “What?” Your voice was a little softer than usual. 

“What?” Bucky shrugged. He’d said it. There was no taking it back. “It’s boring without you. I get we might fight the whole time, but without you I’ve got no one to keep my ego in check.”

Bucky earned a laugh from you as you looked away to keep walking. And he laughed, too. 

You had to admit. Laughing with Bucky rather than groaning was a nice change. 

And it only got easier from there on out. Your groans had turned to laughter, your scowls had turned to smiles and the roll of your eyes had turned to tears of laughter. 

And slowly, the same things happened for Bucky, too.

Eventually, the ten minute window you and Bucky spent together turned into twenty, then forty and before either of you knew it, hours had passed. 

You were both together and, surprisingly, still alive. 

Part Four

[nocapesdahling]

Valkyries and Betting Pools

Dr. Jack Abbot x F! Nurse! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: The staff of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital’s Emergency Department bet on everything. One of the most popular and secret betting pools is focused on what’s going on with you and Dr. Abbot. The bets range from everything under the sun, but who’s going to win?

Meanwhile, you just want to figure out if the man you’ve had a crush on for months likes you back.

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI please)

Warnings/Tags: Flirting; Banter; ER betting pools; References to sex, including oral, fingering, and praise kink; Day shift characters present all over; Night shift characters also make appearances; Fluff; A little bit of oblivious! Reader; A little bit cracky, maybe more than a little; Reader has a nickname

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Inspired entirely by the ambulance betting pool scenes because if they bet on that, then what if they bet on everything? I’m so happy to be writing again, and the Pitt and these beautiful doctors have given me lots of inspiration. This is a very lighthearted fic to take a break from some of the more serious ones I’m currently writing. Hope you enjoy!

If there was something they could bet on in the Pitt, then everyone was participating. Even Dana. She might like to pretend to corral everyone and stop the betting, but she was just as bad as them when it came to betting pools that weren’t as distracting as where a stolen ambulance might end up and how. 

There were pools on how many times Robby might curse that week — Santos had gotten lucky last week because not only had Gloria visited more than once, nothing drove Robby to curse like an anti-vaxxer and there’d been multiple — or what the weirdest case they might see would be. Jesse had won the most recent one with a guess of swallowed Barbie doll heads; it’d been a bit since they’d seen anything with dolls, so they’d been due in his opinion and he’d won a tidy sum for his troubles. They still weren’t sure how the patient had decided to stop at five. 

However, some of the more secret pools were about the interpersonal relationships between the doctors and nurses. Perlah and Princess ran those and kept them locked down tight. There’d been one about Robby and Collins years ago — Dana had used her powers for evil and won that one as well as enough to buy all her family presents for Christmas that year — and there was another one now about Mateo and Javadi, but the one that got the most bets recently was focused on Abbot and you.

What was your relationship? Would you or wouldn’t you? Had you kissed? Were you already together? Were you fucking? 

Nobody knew — well, there may have been one or two (Dana and Robby) who knew for sure and who’d recused themselves from the pool and refused to say why — and there were more bets placed every day. Because the two of you flirted and bantered with each other constantly or at least what passed for flirting for Abbot. Because Abbot was one of the most deadpan flirters any of them had ever seen, and sometimes Ellis and Shen wondered if you even knew he was flirting. It was that bad. 

But then you’d come back with a snarky comment or a similarly deadpan remark, and they’d change their minds as well as their bets. The pool was constantly shifting and Perlah and Princess had to find somewhere to store the money, because there was so damn much of it, before settling back in to watch the show.

You wondered if it was obvious that you couldn’t keep your gaze off of Dr. Abbot’s forearms while he typed patient notes into his computer. Your eyes also drifted every so often to how well he filled out his scrubs as he leaned over. God, you’d think you hadn’t just seen his butt in the shower that morning or watched his forearms flex every time he fingered you. 

You could hear his voice now, “Got to get you ready for me, baby. Don’t want to hurt you. Gotta make you come for me first. You’ll do that for me, won’t you? You’re such a good girl for me.” 

Even just thinking about it made you feel hot and you shifted in your chair, wishing this shift would be over already so you could have Jack all to yourself. 

Of course, you were unaware that almost every single person on shift that could was watching you out of the corners of their eyes and right now with the lull, that was a lot of people. 

Jack tried to not let on that he was aware of everyone’s scrutiny. It made his senses go haywire in the beginning. Some things — okay, a lot of things — from the military never left. At this point, everyone watched you both so often that he was used to it even if the only eyes he wanted on him were yours.

You were both taking a moment to enjoy the calm before the oncoming storm of more patients. Even though you’d only thought it, you knew you’d jinxed it when Ellis rushed a seizing patient back from the waiting room. Abbot turned, pulling on his gloves as he raced after her. 

“Valkyrie, you’re with me.”

You jumped up and followed on his heels, ready to help save a life.

Only Dr. Abbot called you Valkyrie. The first time Shen went to call you that, teasing you, he’d barely gotten the beginning of the word out before Abbot stopped him with a glare and Abbot’s glares intimidated the hell out of people. No one wanted to be a victim of the “Abbot Death Stare.” In fact, there was a betting pool on that too.

How many times will Dr. Abbot glare over the course of the shift? How many times will he do it to Dr. Shen and Dr. Walsh in particular? And did “The Stare of Death,” a Dr. Jack Abbot trademark, make anyone piss their pants? 

The last one hadn’t happened in a long time, but Ellis had won that one. 

It gave you a secret pride that he’d never glared at you. 

The first time he’d called you Valkyrie, you’d almost dropped the saline you were hooking up to a patient’s IV. It had left his lips smooth as you please, leaving wide eyes in its wake. 

“Valkyrie, once you hook up that saline, I need you over here in case we need to intubate.” 

The only other nurse in the room had been Princess, who’d given you a look to let you know he definitely wasn’t referring to her, and as you’d glanced over at Dr. Ellis, she’d shrugged before smirking at you knowingly. 

“Valkyrie, are you listening to me? I need you at my side.”

At that, you finished your task and hurried over. He needed you at his side? You’d be there always. 

You missed Princess and Ellis’s delighted looks as well as Ellis’s mouthed updated bet that Princess nodded at and made a note to add to the pool later. 

Once the patient was taken care of with Princess finishing up the necessary meds, you followed the doctors out of the room. Dr. Ellis headed down the hallway with Abbot following behind. 

“What was that back there?” Your voice was hesitant, causing Abbot to stop and turn back. 

His light brown eyes met yours and you watched his lips tilt up into the smallest of smiles. You wanted to jump up and down because that was the first time he’d smiled all shift and it was because of you, but you held it in. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He looked as stoic as ever, but after much practice reading his expressions, you could tell he was teasing you.

“Dr. Abbot.”

“Valkyrie.”

“See there it is again. Since when do you call me that?”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. You shivered at his proximity and his solid warmth. His voice didn’t help either. “I’ve always called you that. At least in my head. You’re like Eir, you know?”

You tilted your head in thought, biting your lip and not realizing how his darkening eyes focused in on it, before remembering the one member of the Valkyries that was focused on healing. “The goddess of healing?”

“Mhmm.”

“Me? A goddess?” 

He leaned in even closer, but it still wasn’t enough. You wanted to touch him. “Well, I’d worship at your altar any time.”

You let out an incredulous noise, glad the hallway was empty except for the two of you, and swallowed as your face heated. “I —.” 

You had no idea how you were going to respond because this felt like something out of your secret fantasies, but were interrupted before you could by Dana’s voice.

“Dr. Abbot, we have a hit-and-run victim that’s five minutes out. We need you.”

“On my way.” He turned away and quickly headed back towards the main part of the ED.

You couldn’t help but call after him, “This isn’t over.”

His response when it came was amused and a little bit husky, “Oh, I’m counting on it… Valkyrie.” 

He disappeared from view and you could hear his raised commanding voice calling out instructions as he shifted back into attending mode. 

Dana remained in the hallway, just looking at you with amusement evident on her face. “Valkyrie, huh?”

You pulled yourself together, walking over to join her. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You paused, “Well, at least not now. Can we? Later?”

“Of course, hon.” She linked your arms as you headed towards where you were both needed. “We’re off tomorrow. We can get coffee. Lord knows we’ll both need it. And you can tell me more about whatever that was.”

“I don’t really know either.”

“Well, maybe I can help you figure it out.”

You weren’t sure if you should say your thoughts out loud, but you needed confirmation. To make sure you weren’t imagining things. “Wait Dana, has he been flirting with me? Before this, I mean?”

Dana’s face cycled through a few different emotions, including fondness and resignation before her expression settled on determination. “Honey. Not only that, but you’ve been flirting back.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I think this might turn into you treating me for lunch instead. You need more help than I thought.”

Dana had taken herself out of the betting pool later that week, citing inside information that would give her an unfair advantage. And no matter how much everyone pestered her, she refused to say what it was or how she’d come by that information. 

Robby followed suit the following week and exchanged looks with Dana, knowing she had one side of the equation while he had the other and both of them refused to elaborate to the pestering members of the betting pool. When Robby joined Dana on her smoke break later, all both of them could say was “Finally.”

Dana wondered how everyone would react if they knew you’d been dating for months at this point, starting not long after the Valkyrie conversation and after she and Robby had done their part to push you both to make a move. 

You’d kept your relationship entirely a secret otherwise. The only things you’d kept up with were the banter and the teasing comments to stop anyone from being suspicious, unaware that only threw more fuel on the fire or in this case deepened the pool.

She knew you were unaware of the betting pool, but Jack on other hand was fully cognizant of it and found it funny as hell. 

He got to go home every day with the woman he loved, and Shen still thought you’d never get past the talking stage. Well, this morning you hadn’t done much talking unless he counted listening to your body and moans as he ate you out. Whenever he did something he wanted to do it right, and he’d spend hours between your legs if you’d let him.

He couldn’t wait for their reactions when they finally figured it out. Maybe, it’d be obvious after he proposed? The ring was all ready to go and he had a plan. It was one of his better ones too, and he’d made a lot of great plans in his time. He was more than ready to call you his wife. 

It looked like you'd both be winning Dr. Mohan a lot of money, which was good as you’d wanted to tell one of your best friends about your relationship earlier and he’d vetoed it with the full knowledge that Mohan would win the pool when she was one of the first people you told about the engagement. He didn't want her to get disqualified beforehand.

After all, she was the only one who’d guessed “Secret relationship. Maybe even married?” He always knew she was a smart one.

Comments, reblog, and likes are always much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This is the first fic I've posted in ages and I'm so thankful to the Pitt for the inspiration. I had so much fun writing this and would love to hear your thoughts.

As an aside, the Pope Cody shower scene has apparently been hanging around in my brain like a sleeper agent since watching Animal Kingdom and came roaring back to the forefront with this. I have more Pitt fics planned for both Robby and Abbot for now that I can't wait to share with you all!

My Masterlist

[burymagdalene]

Drip by Drip - S. Reid x Reader

In which the nine long days spent apart ends in a harmonious reunion of a needy shower spent together.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: plain smut. (18+ pls pls) I didn't even write 70k words of plot before like I usually do. tags: softdom!Spencer, shower sex, age gap (or could also not be...) pinv, a possessive vibe, fingering, handjob, making out, multiple things being very wet...playing with your tits, creampie, finger sucking, praise, & desperation! wc: 3.3k a/n: More of this. I had a lot of fun writing this even though I kind of felt really dirty to the point of religious guilt as a non-religious person so I hope you guys like it! <3

Your body finally relaxes after what feels like the longest day you’ve had all week once Spencer's shower stream washes over you.

Nine days. Nine brutally slow days of watching over Spencer’s apartment- or torturing yourself by being reminded of his belongings for over a week.

When he first left, you’d been naive. Spencer hasn’t been away for over a week since you’ve started dating. The first time he was gone for three days you felt like you were going to faint. You wish you still had those champagne problems as you’re washing yourself for the trillionth time alone in Spencer’s shower.

The past 24 hours have been especially hard. You were woken up at 5:00 am with Spencer calling you before he had to get ready in the hotel and go out to do whatever had taken up so  much of his time in Boise, Idaho. 

First, good news: He thinks there is a break in the case, and should be getting home later.

Second, great news: Spencer has conveniently woken up with a hard on that's throbbing helplessly against his stomach.

Which sounds like a heavenly wake-up call. But in the FBI he has to be adaptable to the quickest changes in plans.

Five minutes into purring into your side of the phone while touching yourself to Spencer’s groans, another charming individual begins to call Spencer as well. His boss.

So, tucking himself into the band of his underwear, Spencer leaves again. You could’ve finished yourself off, but self pity got the best of you as you drift off to sleep.

A painfully slow and hard day at work followed, rude people and small mishaps on your part that were blown out of proportion to make you feel worse. A crappy self made dinner that took longer to cook than to eat.

But in Spencer’s shower, you’re able to unwind, happy in knowing you can spend the end of a bad day in your lover's space. Regardless of if he’s here or not. Which is another problem, you haven’t heard from him since he was panting on the phone earlier– so it’s safe to say he probably will not be coming back today because of the rush in which he had to hang up earlier.

Over the water pattering against tiles, you do not hear the key jingle and door shut that signifies Spencer’s long-awaited return. Head down and eyes closed, most of your senses are just focused on trying to unwind.

Spencer, placing his bag down in the kitchen, can hear the shower going and immediately saunters over. Not having a plan, but just to show that he’s finally back. He can’t fathom being home right now without alerting you.

Slowly, as if not to scare you too badly, he probably will though, he slips in through the bathroom door, places his toiletry bag down on the sink.

You’re a bit unfocused, but not completely to the point of missing this. Out of your peripheral vision you see the slightest movement and your head whips to the side. Spencer. You could fucking melt.

Through the steam that has built up, you can make out his slouched figure and contrasting pleased smile. You can’t help yourself, with soft dripping skin you swing his shower door open to greet him.

“Spencer,” you whisper out in shock, trailing water onto his bathroom floor. “Oh my God.”

“Hi my baby-” He reaches out to swipe away some droplets on your face, but doesn’t finish. You’re pulling him into a tight, wet hug.

Arms slung fiercely around his neck, he barely buffers in returning your hug with his jacket-clad arms around your waist.

In the back of your mind you’re aware that the water on your breasts and stomach are soaking through his undershirt. That your clean hair is dropping water onto the shoulder of his jacket. You’re also aware how expensive a suit is. 

The harsh disparity from the cool air sticking to your wet skin from the hot (frankly, too hot) shower you were in previously is pebbling your nipples against his now soaked-through button up, your skin is covered in goosebumps that he’s swiping away with his thumb. 

A low hum into your ear as he’s trailing his thumb nail against the sensitive part of your inner waist, “Angel girl,” a deep sigh, “I missed you so much.”

Your arms tighten around him, forehead landing on his wet shoulder, you could cry. You could laugh maniacally. Either way, you feel cemented against his frame, the only warmth being produced near you since stepping out of the shower.

A small indent in your lower stomach is being formed from his belt digging into your pliable skin. You feel like a fresh heap of soft clay ready to be moved and constructed into anything Spencer’s hands can make of you. You feel utterly his.

You pull away slightly, uncomfortable from where his buckle was pressing against your belly. Pulling one hand away you trace it with a fingernail, Spencer and you both looking down at it between your bodies. Both noticing the drastically different attire. 

A chuckle slips from your lips without thinking, “you branded me, look.”

Spencer’s thumb stops rubbing circles into your side, a shiver rolls down your spine. Daring to look up at him, you’re met with his dark eyes resembling magic 8 balls. An underlying fortune there too: Outlook Good.

Warm hands are soon softly gripping your cheeks as you’re being pulled into a burning kiss. His lips against yours after all this time, you moan immediately. Dry and soft and pillowy he’s swallowing you and pulling you flush against him, buckle be damned.

Water from your hairline is rolling over your cheeks and soaking the cuffs of Spencer’s sleeves. You haven’t pulled away far enough, but you can bet that the white button up he’s wearing is see through.

You’re freezing, the air from the bathroom is torturous, your skin on high alert. It’s making you push yourself onto Spencer so hard he stumbles back. He grabs your ass to steady you both for a moment and you bite harshly onto his bottom lip.

“God, my girl,” Spencer shivers against you when he feels your cold hands seek warmth under his shirt, “My perfect girl, I can’t believe how much I missed you.” He places a kiss onto the top of your head.

Speaking into his shoulder, “I missed you too, I feel crazy. Such a bad day.”

Both of his hands slowly trail up your waist till they meet the side of your boobs, you pull your lips in to conceal a whiny moan.

“I’m sorry I left you hanging earlier, did you finish?”

“N-no, went back to bed.”

He groans against your head. Placing his hands firmly on your hips to push you away slightly, taking a long good look at your naked frame. You feel exposed, embarrassed, and hot. Looking back at him, his perfect suit, deliciously tainted by your wet body print, chest visible through the wetness.

One of his thumbs wanders from your hip, back to the small indent of his buckle, rubbing it back and forth. This time you can’t help but whine.

The tension is tangible and painful. Your hands feel stuck to your sides before you snap out of it, pulling him close by the tie before you try to remove it with slippery hands.

Tight and hard to undo because of the wet nature of his garments frustrates you as you try to untangle Spencer from his tie. Him being clothed feels utterly unbearable. Through half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, he watches you struggle with the tie.

“Here- honey, let me.” Spencer's removal of the tie, his fingers taking it off rather steadily compared to your shaking ones. Though the excitement zipping through him equals yours.

You latch onto him again, completely devoted to his presence, there’s no way in hell you’re letting that much distance and that much time separate you again. Tugging one side of the collar of his jacket you slip it off of him, he grabs your wrist.

“I’m here, I’m here,” A wet kiss to your begging mouth, “Get warm in that shower, you’re trembling. I’ll be there in 30 seconds. Can you wait that long for me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Knew it. Good girl.”

With that, your stomach plummets and you spin on your heels back to the shower. It’s almost orgasmic in itself to find yourself under the hot water pressure again. 

The door is almost completely steamed up now, you can hardly make Spencer out through it. You can only see movement and more of his tanned skin being exposed through a murky lens.

You can’t help it, greedy fingers come down to rub a few circles onto your clit as he finishes undressing and approaches you. The weight and stress of the nine days going straight to your clit to be absolved.

The door swings open, mercy.

You don’t feel polite enough to stop the rubbing, Spencer doesn’t seem to mind, mumbling “Jesus.” under his breath before meeting you with a kiss under the shower head.

His tongue rolls slowly against yours, making your toes curl in on themselves where you stand. Fingers picking up against yourself you moan into his open mouth, he pulls his face back to watch you. 

A kiss against your throat makes you whimper and pull your head to the side for another one to be placed. 

With Spencer’s rock hard dick against his stomach in your line of vision you wince while removing your hand from yourself, your hips instinctively kicking up to chase where your hand is now grabbing the base of Spencer.

He hums low, a bead of precum leaking out to be washed away by the stream. You glide your hand quickly, a desperate attempt to hear more of his moans vibrate against your skin. 

“Slowly, baby-” He gasps as you circle his head.

You can’t let up, you barely feel in control of your body. Your head is spinning, you just can’t believe he’s with you.

Finally, a louder moan is cut from Spencer’s lungs as his hips slowly fuck against the fast pace of your fist. The tip of his dick barely ever encases in your hand as he does so, only able to feel the sensation of bottoming out when he’s inside you.

While you’re distracted, moaning brokenly into the suffocating air and pumping your hand against Spencer’s throbbing length, Spencer trails down to pet your clit again for you.

“Fuck, I missed you. I miss touching you like this, the way I can feel your heartbeat in it, baby-” He draws out the last word in disbelief. You felt the thrumming against your own fingertips earlier, so by now you’re sure it’s fluttering against his hand in an obscene way. 

His middle finger circles your entrance. Your heart is in your throat. 

“Please-” You sob out, being teased right now would end you forever.

“Mhm. I am.”

Taking his time feeling against your spongy walls where his thumb continues its circles against your bundle of nerves, your hand against his cock grows sloppy.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the muggy air making you deliciously light headed against his ministrations. 

The second finger brings a delightful stretch, your head falls back against the wall as you whine. It’s been a while. You harness some sort of defiance that refuses to fuck yourself when he’s gone. The week of nothing stretching you out causing for a tight suction around his two fingers as he fucks into you.

“Tight, baby. It’s been too long. I left you too long, my poor thing.”

Though your hand slowed against his cock, you’re still trying to keep up simulation for him, not wanting to be a cruel tease when he’s working against you so perfectly. Spencer pulls that hand away eventually though. Without explanation, you know he was about to cum. His stomach always flexes and twitches when he’s using all his willpower to hold back.

“Need it. Need you-” You gasp against his lips. Totally overzealous. Spencer knows the way you’re tight around him, you’re going to need a third finger to take him without your common whiny complaints.

Teeth knocking together, he continues to tongue kiss you. He wants to expedite this process of feeling you around his cock just as much as you do, he just has more willpower than you. You can mumble and beg and plead till tears well up in your eyes. His stomach swirls with a burning passion because of it, but he has no capability to hurt you. 

So you get another long finger inside you.

You let out a high pitched whimper- proving yourself wrong immediately. You needed to be stretched out this way. Damn his perceptiveness.

Your eyes roll back and your hips roll against the fingers rubbing against that sweet spot in you that shakes your thighs.

“You gotta keep yourself open for me when I’m gone, love.” He whispers brokenly into the thick air around you.

“Can’t. Only you.” You grumble back.

Spencer can’t get into the health benefits of taking care of yourself this way, especially in the long periods when he’s away. He can tell you’re bordering speechlessness and he’s dizzy enough to follow your technique of just letting out pretty moans.

A tiny trail of white essence pools around his fingers and he nearly keels over. You’re definitely ready to take him now. Seeing the ways he makes you feel good in the mess you make always drives him to the brink of insanity.

“Taking them out now. Gonna give you what you want. Feel ok?” He whispers into your ear before nibbling the lobe softly before parting to analyze your face.

“Feel reallyy good, Spence.” You smile a dazed grin at him, eyelids fluttering shut. Bringing the fingers that were just inside you to his lips he sucks them off and bites down on his fingers a bit too hard at the divine taste.

“Do you want to turn around for me, angel?”

Spencer’s trying to think of the best way to do this. His shower is nice, but isn’t the biggest shower in the world, he lives in an apartment in D.C. after all. He’s gonna have to fuck you from behind.

“Yeah, course.” You shift slowly, forearms out to brace yourself against the cold wall. Sticking your butt out playfully, he grips it softly, lines his cock against you.

“You feel okay? Ready?” He plants a kiss on your shoulder, you turn your head to make eye contact, you and Spencer usually can’t go too long without looking into each other's faces.

“Feel okay, really want you baby.”

Your head stays tilted to the side and your temple rests against the wall as he nudges his head against you.

Opening you up just enough, the stretch of all of him after a considerable amount of time has you keening.

The hand not gripping your waist moves up to cup one of your tits, rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck-” you whimper out meekly.

Letting him all the way in, he squeezes your breast for purchase. Looking at how he’s fully settled inside you, Spencer begins peppering soft kisses over your shoulder and spine, calming you and himself down.

Using the wall as leverage you slowly move yourself back against him, notifying Spencer you’re ready to be taken.

Gasping, he pulls almost all the way out to slowly fuck himself in again before settling on a good, unyielding pace. The feeling of your warm skin under his hands, warm cunt around his dick and warm water falling against his back is making him feel like he’s on a cloud. Completely blissed out having you in his arms again.

You groan (rather unladylike while getting fucked this way) and circle your hips against his thrusts. Spencer peers up at you, making sure your face isn’t holding any tension that could be read as something hurting. Instead you just open your mouth, ready for a finger.

Begrudgingly, he takes his hand off your breast to place his thumb down on your tongue, you moan happily and smile around him as your teeth scrape him lightly when he finds a delicious spot in you to pound at. 

Overwhelmed, he has to look up at the ceiling. He’s been so pent up that letting his hips move in autopilot against you, the quiet sopping sound of you two together over the water falling, the base of his spine tingles.

“Still okay?”

He asks at your closed eyes, you gurgle out an uh-huh against his thumb, drool rolling down your chin to be forgotten in the shower.

“Kay- good.” He kisses your cheek.

Feeling his orgasm beginning to build, Spencer takes his hand from your waist to move to the front of your hips where your clit is exposed.

A trembling bite is met against his thumb as he uses three fingers against you in relentless circles. Keeps his hips going the same pace.

“Spence- you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Ha- trying to, doll.” His eyebrows furrow- trying to hold back long enough so he can fuck you through your orgasm, though the tone of your voice is making that increasingly hard.

Your head lolls back against his shoulders and with a few “ah, ah, ah’s” you’re coming hard all over him.

“Good, yeah. You’re okay, feel so good f’me.” He whimpers as you begin to pull his orgasm from him. His hips still against you at your deepest point as you let out a tiny mewl at the stimulation. Tongue pushing out his thumb to moan freely.

He rocks himself inside you while holding your hips up, making sure no slips occur in his bathroom today. Spencer keeps grinding and rubbing your clit until you’re both shaky with overstimulation, and till you mutter out a “can’t-”. He doesn't argue with that.

The shower water is beginning to chill as he watches his cum slide down your thighs into the basin. Spencer is rubbing your arms soothingly up and down till he pulls you against him. 

“You wanna get out, pretty?”

“Cold.” You shudder.

Your legs feel like jelly when he’s wrapping a towel around your shoulders and ushering you into his bedroom. Another towel tied lowly on his waist he pulls an FBI hoodie over your raised arms and boxers up your legs. His own robe pulled off the door to drape over himself.

The tender attention you receive no matter what type of sex you and Spencer have always heats your cheeks with delight. A tender pressure is being massaged into your thighs with the lotion you brought over from your own apartment, and your eyes flutter shut as he mumbles something along the lines of “princess.. blah blah blah…” to you.

“Please never be away from me that long again. I really missed you, Spencer.”

All warmed up and soft from his pampering, you lie against his rising and falling chest.

“I know. I did too. It’s strange, I feel like when I’m with you, you act as my circadian rhythm. You ground me and keep me in check, I know when to wake up when you do. I sleep better, eat better. When we’re apart I struggle with that. You’re a resounding part of my day.”

You nuzzle against his chest, preening at his words. 

“I love you so much.”

“My baby, I love you too.”

Squished together tightly in a way that’s breeding an almost uncomfortable warmth, you and Spencer fall asleep. Hearts mirroring each other in matching soft and measured beats, the 216 painful hours apart start healing with every drum in your chests.

[smiteswrites]

A Different Kind of Pain

Part One

Description: After losing a gem of a next door neighbor, Jack worries what the new resident will be like. Instead of a young obnoxious college kid, he meets you. Instantly struck by your warm nature (and good looks but he won't admit to that), Jack finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn't experienced in years.

Tags: reader is a chemistry grad student bc i say so, shameless self insert, fem!reader, trying to avoid too many specific descriptors on readers appearance but i am new to this, reader is shorter than jack, widower!Jack, Jack talks ab therapy, trying to do justice to the fact that Jack is an amputee, but again I am not an expert, just some fluff and feelings, eventual smut, and so mdni 18+

A/N: Thank you all for the encouragement on the first version of this! It has been really really amazing to know people enjoy my ideas and writing and absolutely wild that y'all want more. I really love this idea and have many many plans for these two. I hope to get part two written and out this week. I am thinking around 3-4 parts total, but we shall see. This is starts similar to this post, but I made some changes and expanded quite a bit. I hope you enjoy and please send me asks/dms if you have any suggestions/comments/feedback on anything! I am always open to improving and learning.

gif credit - @iluvseb | divider credit - @cursed-carmine

Part One - 3k

Jack has been living in the left half of a red brick duplex, unit 101A, long enough to see a handful of tenants come and go on the right side, 102A. There was a college kid whose prefrontal cortex was just underdeveloped enough for him to be nothing but a pain in Jack’s ass. Needless to say, not his favorite neighbor. Then there was a young couple who were perfectly lovely until they had to move somewhere with two bedrooms to accommodate an incoming little one (Jack had been sure to give them his number in case they ever needed a friend in the ED). Most recently an older woman, Mrs. McAlister, who had regularly brought Jack all manner of baked goods and leftovers, had moved out and into her daughter's house. 

The unfortunate loss of Mrs. McAlister’s cooking meant that the right half of his duplex (and yes he thought of it as his by this point) was empty. Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creep in as he watched the last of Mrs. McAlister’s things be packed into a UHaul on Saturday afternoon. Would his new neighbor be another sweet elderly woman? Or would he get stuck with some obnoxious twenty something with no common courtesy? 

Fortunately for Jack, he didn’t have to wait long to find out. Housing got snatched up fast in a city like Pittsburgh, especially housing that was halfway decent and affordable, so it was no surprise that 102A was empty for under 48 hours. 

His first glimpse of the new tenant comes when Jack is arriving back home from a shift, just before 8 am on a Monday. He isn’t surprised to see a moving truck out front, nor is he surprised to see you directing the two movers on where to put furniture and boxes. He can tell you're young, in your twenties is his guess, which immediately sets his nerves on edge. Jack doesn’t think he can handle anymore house parties or loud hookups or trash left out. But you have a quiet, competent air about you that seems to indicate you aren't going to cause a ruckus. You appear to be alone, aside from the movers. He finds himself looking for evidence of a partner, husband, wife, without really meaning to. Forcing himself to not be overly nosy, Jack moves past the two men, now carrying part of a bed frame, and lets himself into 101. 

After a shower and the last of Mrs. McAlister’s roast (bless that woman), Jack is dressed in grey sweats and a black t-shirt, ready for bed. Despite the sleep threatening to overcome him, he finds himself looking out his window to check in on the status of your move. Apparently you had gotten here early, because he can see you handing the movers a wad of cash and sending them on their way. Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed his prosthetic and is hurrying to get the damn thing back on so he can step back outside. He may as well catch you as you’re heading back inside, introduce himself, make sure he doesn’t need to be concerned about having another pain in his ass next door. It is the neighborly thing to do after all, he reasons. 

Another moment finds him a couple steps outside his door, clearing his throat to catch your attention from where you’re examining the front facing window of 102. 

“I’m Jack. Abbot. I’m in 101. Figured I should introduce myself, welcome you to the neighborhood and all.” He outstretches his hand, wondering if a handshake is still what people do these days.

Smiling, you shake his hand firmly and give him your name, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. It is at this moment Jack finally takes you in fully. He was right, he thinks, you must be in your mid twenties, no ring on your finger, and certainly not a pain in his ass. You stand a handful of inches shorter than him, just enough that you have to look up to make eye contact. The smile you are giving him is radiant in a way that makes his stomach feel tight. He can see you’re flushed from the exertion of carrying boxes and helping to move furniture, and your hair has begun to fall from where you had it back. 

But even though you aren’t at your most put together, Jack is left feeling off balance, as he can only see you as the most raw and real kind of beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes with a bright smile, dewy skin, and pink chinks. The kind that has as much to do with physical appearance as it does a person’s character. The kind of beauty that reminds him of his late wife when they first met. Even though he is just meeting you, Jack likes to think his gut is usually right about people, and his gut is telling him that you are exactly the type of kind, caring, intelligent person that spells nothing but trouble for him.

“It’s very nice to meet you Jack! I hope the movers weren’t too much of a disturbance, it seems like a quiet little haven around here.” 

“About as close to a haven as you can get in the city,” he agrees with a small smile. “And don’t mention it, you weren’t a disturbance at all.” 

In the few minutes the two of you spend chatting he finds out you’re a fourth year graduate student, “A PhD in chemistry? You might just be a bigger masochist than me.” You somehow work nearly as many hours as he does, and he finds your work ethic dizzyingly attractive. You moved to the area in the hope of finding somewhere a little quieter, some place where you didn’t feel like people were packed in like sardines. You aren’t from PA, but you have a couple close friends in town and your family tries to visit often. You confirm his suspicions when you tell him you’re single and don’t have any kids or pets so there shouldn’t be any noise waking him up through the night.

“Actually, I’m an attending in the ED, usually on night shift. Sounds like you aren't home much during the day, but-” 

“Don’t worry Jack, I’ll keep it down during the day too. You can always bang on the wall if I’m being to loud,” 

He feels the corners of his mouth twitch up. “Thanks, sweetheart.” It slips before he can catch up to his mouth. Even though he knows he shouldn’t be giving you nicknames, and definitely not that kind, the pink that dusts your cheeks at the term of endearment is enough to make him want to call you nothing else. 

“Uh- listen I’ve gotta get to bed, but let me give you my number in case you need anything.  Neighbor or doctor wise,” he says, shooting you a wink. 

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you doctor.” 

And god, he knows you mean it in a teasing way, but it does nothing to help the steadily growing attraction he feels towards you. He knows he is at least 15 years too old, and far too emotionally unavailable to even entertain the idea of being with you. He knows. But when you smile at him like he’s just offered to hang the moon and stars for you, he really doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

It’s just his number, no harm in you having it, and certainly no reason it has to have any underlying intention behind it. That’s what he tells himself anyway. 

He puts his number in your phone when you hand it to him, putting “Jack Abbot” as the name and “the guy in 101A and doctor at PTMC” in the notes for good measure. You thank him again, giving his hand a squeeze as he returns the phone. You say your goodbyes, and he retreats into his black out curtain and noise machine generated paradise. The last thing he sees before shutting his eyes is a text from an unknown number with your name, just so he can save your number too. 

You are going to be a pain in his ass alright, a kind he didn’t even think to be worried about. 

After your initial introduction, Jack assumes (worries) the two of you won't see much of each other. During your initial meeting, in an effort to reassure him you wouldn’t make too much noise during the day, you had inadvertently given him your schedule: 6:45 am leave for work, 7-5 ish suffer, 5:30 pm arrive home from work. With anyone else he would be glad to know that there would be no one next door to disturb his sleep, but instead he could only focus on the fact that he would rarely, if ever, run into you. 

His assumption proved to be correct for the first two weeks of your time in 102A, only seeing you on occasion as he left for work. But, about halfway through week three, Jack wakes up earlier than normal. By the time 5:30 pm rolls around and he’s supposed to be on call for another 13.5  hours, he feels himself starting to get restless. It’s a nice day outside with a high of 75 and a low of 52, the sun has set enough to cast an orange glow on the city, but not enough that it’s going to be dark soon, and Jack has a rare burst of energy. His therapist has been telling him some sunshine goes a long way, and he didn’t spend all that money on the fucking sports prosethic to not use it. 

By 5:42 pm Jack is in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, sports prosthetic on. He makes it about two steps out his front door, still adjusting the stupid prosthetic, when he senses he isn't alone. Straightening up, he realizes you’ve just come out of your front door as well. His gaze travels upwards from your feet as he makes his way to his full height. You’re dressed similar to himself in athletic shorts with a matching jacket, and he has to force himself to not linger on the exposed skin of your legs. When he does meet your eyes, he finds you smiling at him in a way that suggests you caught his little slip up, but are too polite to mention it. 

“Hey Jack! Are you heading out for an evening run? Well- I guess it would technically be morning for you, sorry,” You laugh at yourself lightly, cheeks coloring only the slightest bit. Whether it’s from embarrassment at the slip up or something else he can’t be sure. 

Either way, he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I still consider this to be evening. I am a proud night lurker, there is no part of me that wants to be waking up before 3 pm.” A small fit of giggles overtakes you, and he feels his smile turn into something more genuine. 

“But no, not much of a runner,” he gestures to his right leg where the prosthetic is on display. “I’m on call tonight and can’t do much besides hang out here, figured a walk might do me some good.” 

To your credit, your expression only falters slightly when you take in his leg, quickly recovering to match his eye contact as you listen. You nod, humming warmly in agreement, still keeping your eyes locked on his. “I have to agree. I’m also not much of a runner but I try to walk after lab most days. I think it’s a great way to reset after a long day.” 

“Sounds like you’re the evening walk expert then?” 

“Something like that,” you joke back. 

Jack knows that the conversation is winding down, it’s time for him to wish you a good walk and find a reason to hang back until you go on your way. Wait to see which direction you turn before beginning to walk in the opposite way. But Jack also knows that you’ve been looking at him with an attentiveness that, while he gives freely, is rarely if ever matched. If there were ever a sign of not wanting a conversation to end, he thinks the way you’re looking at him is surely it. 

Fuck it. 

“Well, I’m new to this whole walking for fun thing, maybe you could show me the best route to take?” 

Your eyes brighten, “Of course! I mean, obviously I’m new to the area, but I think I’ve found a good path. It’s about 30 minutes, if that’s good with you?” 

“Of course, lead the way,” he gestures forward with his hand, indicating for you to lead the way, leaning forward slightly as he does so. If you notice the way he stumbles forward slightly as his weight shifts on an unfamiliar right foot, you don’t say anything. But Jack swears he you’re biting the inside of your cheek to fight off a grin as you walk down the steps. 

Fucking sports prosthetic. 

The walk is… nice. Nicer than Jack expected. He can hear the birds chirping in the trees that are awkwardly implanted in the sidewalk. He can hear the sounds of the city too (sirens, honking, a plane overhead) but they’re less pronounced than normal. The two of you walk side by side as you lead him through parts of his neighborhood he’s never really taken the time to look at. You point out a café that apparently ‘makes a mean oat milk latte.’ 

“I hate to fulfill the old white guy stereotype, but I only drink my coffee black.” Self-deprecation as a form of self-defence, the oldest trick in the book. 

“As horrifying as that information is,” you begin, closing your eyes and placing a hand on your chest, “I also can get behind a black coffee, so if you’re calling yourself old you’re gonna have to call me old too.” You smile at him and make eye contact for only a moment before breaking looking at the pavement a few feet ahead of you.

“Besides, you have got to be the sexiest ‘old guy’ I’ve ever seen so I’d be wearing that badge proudly if I were you.” You put your hands up in mock defensiveness and accentuate your point with air quotes. 

He really isn’t sure what to do with himself besides laugh. Looking at you now, he could tell that even if you were uncertain, you were not the type of woman to let him get away with putting himself down. Nothing to do but admit defeat. 

“I think I’ll be quite happy with that title.” 

By the time the duplex is coming back into view Jack has learned that you’ve been walking everyday for years after a suggestion from a therapist. He’s learned that you “actually thought about going to medical school, but turns out biology and me don’t get along.” He’s also relearned more about chemistry than he ever hoped he would have to after asking the simple question “What does your lab research?” 

He had told you his own therapist had suggested he ‘get his ass outside’ more often, and that maybe the shrink was right more often than he wanted to give the guy credit for. He also shared one of his gorrier work stories and had been impressed when you were hanging on to his every word rather than going green. More importantly, he had only let himself spend about 3 minutes total looking at the way the sunlight caught your hair, or the way it framed your face as it fell from the loose bun you had it in, or at your lips as you spoke rather than your face, or at the necklace laying against the soft place where your neck met your collar bones. Just 3 minutes, not bad at all, practically a record. 

As you approach the front steps you hesitate, and he feels it too, he thinks. The uncertainty of where the two of you stand with one another. Jack knows where he stands, and he has a feeling he knows where you do too, he hadn’t been the only one with a staring problem. But even if Jack thinks he knows, he doesn’t really know. 

“Thank you for sharing your route with me, I think I was right to call you the walk expert.” He shoots you a trademark Abbot smirk, trying to put a lid on whatever feelings may or may not have been simmering during the past 30 minutes. 

“Anytime Jack, it was nice to have some company.” The smile you give him in return is softer, warmer than his own. For not the first time, and certainly not the last, he feels torn about how to approach you. He knows this feeling, he’s felt it before and it landed him in a world of heartbreak and pain. It was a place he’s worked hard to move on from, and thank god he can see now that while yes feelings, raw and vulnerable, can end in pain they are also what make life worth living. 

He isn’t sure where the two of you stand, after all you’ve barely started to get to know each other. However, he is sure that he wants to at least give himself the chance to find out, no matter how scary or stupid a choice it might be.  

“Well… maybe we could do this again sometime? I know my therapist would throw a fucking party if he got word of me not only being out in daylight but also socializing outside of work.” 

“I’d love that,” you smile wider now, staring at your feet briefly and rocking back on your heels slightly before looking back up at him. “I’ll be here a little after 5:30 pretty much everyday, join me whenever you like. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he feels his own expression melt into something so sickly sweet his cheeks hurt. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight, Jack.”

[be-xkyy]

How about the Yanderes training their little babies to be the perfect yanderes to keep an eye on their darling when they aren't around? And I'm talking them telling what you did down to how many breaths you take. Full on lil snitches to anything you do!!!

Hi dear anon, well I think everyone would have their kids keep an eye on reader in one way or another 🖤

Would the Yanderes train their children to watch over Reader?

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Masterlist

Yandere Farmer Link

Yes, this man would have his children watch you 24 hours a day. He would teach them from a young age to be completely aware of you when he is not around, he would train them to tell him everything, EVERYTHING, who comes home when he is not, if you talk to someone (whoever), who you call on the phone and he would even make sure his children inform him if you do something that he forbade you to do at some point and you did anyway thinking he wouldn't notice.

Every after he comes home with his older children following close behind after a long day of work on the farm, his younger children would already be waiting for him sitting on the porch steps, they jump to their feet when they see him approaching, they run up to him and start quickly telling him everything that happened while he was gone.

"Enough. Speak one at a time, we can't understand each other. So your mother was on the phone, huh? Well, everyone go feed the horses while I talk to your mother."

Yandere Cowboy Link

Yet another one who shamelessly makes his kids watch you, he finds it funny and might even joke about the fact that his kids watch you, he would call them "his little spies" but if you scold him he would tell you that it is a "cute" thing that his little ones care so much and that just shows how much he and the kids love you, he doesn't need anything else to convince you.

His older kids (four and five years old) come over to tell him everything you did that day, he listens intently while rocking his daughter (one year old) on his hip and kisses her chubby cheeks from time to time, he laughs as he hears his kids fight each other over who tells the "wrong" story, he ends up calming both kids down before they start fighting and get your attention.

"Come on, come on kids, stop fighting before mom finds out and scolds us all, how about we go see your beautiful mother and ask her what happened today?"

Yandere Dilf Link

I think in his case it's more about his worry, paranoia of losing you, something happening to you or you leaving him rather than really wanting to control you, his son and especially his daughters will tell everything about the day to their father since they hate seeing him so worried (he's a good father) if you are more reluctant to talk to him and still don't accept your new life, your children would try to keep their father in the loop.

When he comes back from work and steps foot inside the house his children would already be there ready to ease his worries about you, they would take him to the couch and he would start telling everything to their father who would relax when, he hears nothing strange or suspicious happened in his absence, he would pat his son on the head and kiss his daughters on the cheeks before getting up from the couch to look for you.

"Here you are, honey. The kids told me that today you planted the daisy seeds I gave you... I'll bring more for you tomorrow and if you want something special, just ask, okay, honey?"

Yandere Sugar Daddy Link

He has no shame as I said, he would have no qualms about putting security cameras all over the house so he can see everything you and the kids do when he is working in his office, he would even ask the kids in front of you what they did that day, what YOU did that day, even though he has already seen everything, of course. But he wants to see if they are honest.

His son is more vague with his answers, although the boy wants his father to feel proud of him, he does not want to betray you, his daughter on the contrary tells her father everything from what she did that day, what her brother did, what you did, what the maid did, what the neighbors did... she rants happily while her father listens attentively with a smile on his lips.

"Look at that dear, our little princess is quite an observer, she sees everything. And she would never hide anything from her daddy, right little princess?"

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Spencer Reid x Avoidant!BAU!reader

series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!bau!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). hurt+comfort. two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. fluff. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[sabrinajenre96]

“When the Storm Brought Her”

Pairing: Michael Robinavitch x Doctor!Wife!Reader

Setting: Pittsburgh, Nighttime, Home during a Storm

Genre: Fluff, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort, age gap

Warning: some mention of pregnancy, labour birth and strong language. Read on your discretion.

Tagging: @ilovechickenwings

Rain lashed against the windows, a steady rhythm that should’ve been soothing, if not for the occasional boom of thunder rattling the walls of their Pittsburgh home. Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the couch, hand resting on her heavily pregnant belly.

"She’s definitely practicing gymnastics in there," Y/N murmured, looking over at Michael, who was lighting another artificial candle in the living room. The power had gone out ten minutes ago, and the storm showed no signs of letting up.

Michael turned, his face glowing in the soft, flickering light. “Well, she’s our kid. Of course she’s dramatic.”

Y/N snorted. “If she inherits your sense of timing, she’ll probably arrive during a lunar eclipse or something ridiculous.”

“I mean… a baby born during a blackout in a thunderstorm? That’s peak main character energy.”

They both laughed, letting the moment of quiet connection settle in. The house was dark, save for the glow of the candles, the hum of rain and wind outside. They sat together, knees touching, talking softly about their baby girl—who she might look like, what her personality would be like, how they were going to survive parenthood.

“I kind of hope she has your eyes,” Y/N said after a moment.

Michael grinned. “And I hope she gets your brains. Otherwise, we’re in trouble.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly and got up slowly. “Okay, bathroom trip number eight million. Be right back.”

She shuffled down the hallway, but as she turned on the dim battery-powered nightlight in the bathroom, she paused.

“…What the—?”

Warm liquid had soaked her pajama pants.

“Oh no.”

---

Ten minutes later, the first contraction hit hard, making her double over near the hallway wall. Panic licked at her chest. "Michael!" she yelled, loud enough to carry over the storm.

He sprinted out of the living room barefoot, eyes wild until they landed on her face. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I—I think I’m in labor.”

Doctor mode: activated.

He instantly steadied her, walking her back into the living room. “Okay, okay. Deep breaths. How far apart are the contractions?”

“They just started, but they’re strong,” she breathed, gripping his arm. “Michael, we can’t get to the hospital—”

“I know,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’ll do it here. I’ve got you.”

---

Within minutes, the coffee table had been cleared, blankets and towels layered, water boiled and cooling, emergency supplies brought out from the closet stash “just in case.” Michael moved with calm precision, but Y/N’s hands trembled.

“I know we’re both doctors,” she said, wincing as another contraction rolled through her, “but I’m scared, Michael.”

His eyes softened. He knelt beside her, brushing sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. “You’re doing amazing. I’m right here.”

She groaned, clutching a pillow. “This is your fault.”

“Yep. Totally my fault,” he chuckled. “Let’s just remember this next time we feel like skipping protection.”

“Oh god, you’re going to look down there, aren’t you? This is going to scar you forever.”

“Scar me? Babe, I once reattached a man’s foot. Trust me, I’m good.”

“But this is my vagina we’re talking about!”

He smirked. “And it’s my favorite one.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you dare flirt with me while I’m crowning.”

Another contraction hit, and this time, it knocked the air from her lungs. She gasped, panting. “Michael—I can’t—I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, hands steady on her knees. “You’re the strongest person I know. One more push. You’ve got this.”

Tears blurred her vision. “What if I’m not ready? What if I mess up? What if—?”

He leaned in close. “You already love her. That’s what matters. And I love you. We’re doing this together.”

She nodded, lips trembling, and bore down with everything she had.

Moments later, a cry pierced the candle-lit silence.

Their daughter had arrived.

---

Michael gently caught the baby, eyes wide and shining. “She’s perfect. She’s—wow. She’s here.”

Y/N sobbed, equal parts pain, exhaustion, and joy. He laid the baby on her chest, and the little girl immediately quieted, blinking up with a scrunched-up face.

“She’s… beautiful,” Y/N whispered.

They spent long, quiet moments just staring at her. The storm raged on outside, but inside the room, time stood still.

“What should we name her?” Michael asked, rubbing a gentle thumb over their daughter’s tiny hand.

Y/N smiled through tears. “Let’s name her after your grandmother. She’d be proud.”

Michael kissed her hand. “Welcome to the world, Clara Rose Robinavitch.”

---

Later, Michael helped Y/N to the bathroom, whispering reassurances as he steadied her every step. While she freshened up, he cleaned and swaddled Clara, who had already claimed his chest as her favorite sleeping spot.

Once Y/N returned, Michael helped her into bed, placing the baby in her arms again. They lay together, wrapped around each other and their newborn daughter, waiting for the storm to pass, their hearts full.

“You delivered our baby,” Y/N whispered.

“You did all the work,” he murmured back. “I just had the best view in the house.”

She smacked him lightly on the chest and smiled.

Clara let out a tiny sigh in her sleep.

Outside, the thunder finally began to fade.

By the time the storm broke the next morning, the roads were still slick but finally passable. Michael had already bundled up Clara in the softest onesie they owned, tucked her carefully in a makeshift car seat cocoon lined with blankets, and made sure Y/N was resting enough before even mentioning leaving the house.

“You sure you’re up for the ride?” he asked gently as he helped her into the backseat, Clara nestled safely in her arms.

Y/N leaned her head back, exhausted but glowing. “I delivered a whole baby in our living room. I can survive a 15-minute drive.”

Michael slid into the driver’s seat, constantly glancing at them in the mirror as he pulled onto the road. “I still can’t believe we did it.”

“We?” she teased, eyes half-lidded. “You mean I did it while you cracked jokes about my anatomy.”

“Hey,” he defended, grinning. “I made sure everything stayed sterile, didn’t pass out, and caught our daughter like a champ.”

“Caught?” she laughed. “She wasn’t a fly ball, Michael.”

---

By the time they pulled up to the hospital, the early morning staff was already trickling in. A nurse near the entrance looked out the window, did a double take, then gasped. “Dr. Robinavitch?”

Michael waved, already jogging around the car to help his wife out.

The ER team hurried to meet them with a wheelchair, but Y/N shook her head.

“I’m fine. I’m just here for post-delivery checks.”

“You gave birth at home?” a wide-eyed intern asked.

“In the middle of a blackout,” Michael confirmed proudly. “Meet Clara Rose.”

The nurses melted on sight, cooing at the tiny, swaddled baby in Y/N’s arms. Clara, oblivious to the attention, yawned and wriggled sleepily against her mother’s chest.

Within minutes, Y/N was in a private recovery room, the attending OB doing a full checkup while Michael paced nearby like he wasn’t already a double-boarded doctor.

“Vitals look good. You did a phenomenal job, Dr. Robinavitch,” the OB said warmly. “And so did you, Dr. Robinavitch.”

Michael smiled and squeezed Y/N’s hand.

---

Once cleared and settled, with Clara nursing peacefully and both mom and baby healthy, Michael finally sat down beside the hospital bed.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’ve delivered dozens of babies, and nothing—not one—comes close to that.”

Y/N glanced at him, eyes softer than he’d ever seen. “You didn’t flinch once. Not even when I was cursing you out.”

“I blacked that part out for my own emotional protection,” he joked, leaning over to kiss her temple.

“I was scared,” she admitted, stroking Clara’s cheek. “Not of the pain. Just… of being someone’s mother. Of failing her.”

He took her hand. “You didn’t fail. You brought her into this world with so much strength, and she’ll always know that.”

Y/N smiled through tired tears. “You’re going to be the best dad.”

“And you’re already the best mom.”

They sat in peaceful silence, broken only by the tiny sighs of their newborn daughter. Rain still drizzled softly against the windows—but this time, it was gentle, healing.

Outside, Pittsburgh was waking up.

Inside, a new family had already been born.

[mrgoldmc26]

Jisoo's Late Night YG HQ Visit

Tags: Blowjob, facefucking, vaginal sex, facial and more...

Word Count: 5.1k

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

It was a dark and rainy late Friday night at the YG HQ, with pretty much everyone having already gone home. The building was almost empty, and it was quite dark. At times, it even felt like a ghost town, with how little noise there was.

I was in my office, just finishing some paperwork, the only illumination coming from the dim glow of my desk lamp and the soft light of my computer screen, when suddenly, a very angry-looking Jisoo came into the room, slamming the door shut. I was so surprised, I didn't know what to say. She was panting heavily, with an annoyed look on her face, and I wondered what could've possibly gotten her so mad.

"Whoa, Jisoo...what's wrong? Why do you look so angry?"

"Please tell me that the rumors aren't true."

"What rumors? I don't know what you are talking about."

"The rumors that you guys are going to release Lisa's new songs before mine."

"Uhm, nothing has been confirmed yet, but it’s looking likely this will be the case."

"That is bullshit! She has already released two songs before, and I haven't even had my solo debut."

"I'm sorry, Jisoo, but Lisa just simply draws in more numbers than you. She is more famous than you, and her songs are just better."

"Do you really want to compare your 'Flower' and 'All Eyes On Me' to Lisa's 'LALISA' and 'Money'?"

"Also, I'm pretty sure she has already showed you her unreleased song 'Rockstar'..."

"Not to mention, she has a feature on the cards with Rosalía. Where is your feature? Nobody wants to collaborate with you."

"This is so unfair. Jennie, Rosé and Lisa have already had their solo debut. It should be me now."

"I...I don't know what to tell you, Jisoo...you are just going to have to wait a little bit longer.

"How much longer?"

"Well, we have to put your releases far away from each other. So, if Lisa takes 2023, you will have to wait until next year."

"NEXT YEAR? We are in March!!!"

"Sorry. There isn't much I can do."

"Of course there is...you are the son of the CEO. He will listen to you. Please!"

It pained me to see Jisoo like this. She had this weird effect on me...everytime I looked at her, she would leave me breathless, unlike the other girls. They were all beautiful, but she was just on another level. Jisoo was right. I knew it was unfair, but I was just trying to do what's best for business.

"I can try to talk to him, but I doubt he'll change his mind. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going home." I said, standing up and getting ready to leave.

"No! That's not good enough!" She said, slamming her fist into my desk.

"You aren't going anywhere until I've had my solo debut."

"I know you have the power to make the decision yourself, so please...do the right thing."

"You are right...I do have the power to do it if I really wanted to."

"Then do it. Please, I will do anything. I'm tired of waiting for my opportunity."

"Anything, huh?"

"Yes. Anything."

"We'll see about that." I said, pulling down my pants alongside my boxers, letting them drop to the floor as my cock flopped out, already semi-hard.

Jisoo's eyes widened at the sight, and her jaw slightly dropped. Her reaction wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, and I was surprised by the fact that she wasn't on her knees immediately, taking my cock inside her mouth.

"I can't believe you would do such thing to me...you are disgusting."

"So what's it gonna be?"

"Not that, that's for sure. You can put that away, I'm going upstairs."

"Upstairs? To do what?"

"See if there is still any higher up I can talk to."

"For what?"

"To get you fired."

"You really think that is going to work? The only person that can fire me is my dad. Who do you think he is going to pick?"

"Me." She said, not sounding that convinced.

"Okay, let's say that by some miracle he picks your side, and he fires me...do you really think the next guy won't do the same thing? We are all trying to do what's best for business. They will always pick Lisa ahead of you."

"That's not true."

"Oh, it is...and let me tell you something else. Do you even know why they got their opportunities ahead of you in the first place?"

"No."

"They were in the same spot as you are right now. In front of me, with my cock out. And I will give you a little spoiler...they didn't even hesitate..."

"No...that...that can't be true. You are lying."

"I'm not lying, Jisoo. Why do you think you get the least lines out of all four of you?" I said, leaving Jisoo in disbelief, as she started putting the pieces together.

"I'm giving you the opportunity that you wanted. If you do this, I can make sure your songs are out in the next two weeks. You have my word."

"But please...go ahead. Go talk to my father. Get me fired. I'm sure it will work, and they will replace me with an ugly ass Korean guy with a tiny cock. I bet you will enjoy sucking on that instead..."

"So...once again I ask you...what's it gonna be? And before you answer, and to make the decision easier for you, I must tell you that my cock isn't even fully hard yet." I said, smirking from ear to ear, as I was confident she was going to take the deal.

Jisoo was completely rooted to the spot. I could tell she was thinking about it really hard, and contemplating her choices. This was a difficult situation for her, but the fact that she hadn't walked out the room told me she was considering the offer.

"Next two weeks?" She asked, and I let out the biggest grin I could muster.

"Next two weeks."

"This stays between you and me, okay?"

"You have my word. Now...get down on your knees."

I could tell by the disgusted look on her face that she didn't want to do this in the slightest and felt awful about herself, yet still, Jisoo kneeled before me, and looked at my dick before looking up at me.

"You have done this before, haven't you?"

"Yes. I know how to suck dick."

"Good."

Before I gave her the chance to do anything with my cock, I moved away from her and sat down on the couch, wanting to feel as comfortable as possible for what was about to happen. I saw Jisoo beginning to stand up, when I immediately stopped her in her tracks.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Stop! Stay down...I want you to crawl over to me."

"You are an asshole..."

"You want things to get done, you do as I say."

"Now stay on your knees and crawl over to me like the slut that you are."

"I am not a slut."

"Really? You are about to suck my dick to further your career, and you think that makes you any different from a slut?"

"Ugh, shut up. I hate you." She said, as she reluctantly began crawling towards me. Jisoo was so gorgeous, and watching her crawl towards me made my cock throb and swell even more.

As Jisoo finally made her way over to me, she hesitated for a moment, as her eyes were fixated on my cock.

"C'mon Jisoo. Don't act shy."

"Do you know what happened when I gave the same opportunity I am giving you right now to the likes of Jennie and Rosé?"

"No."

"They didn't even think twice. Both of them dove right in. They sucked my cock like their life depended on it, and, on both occasions, I fucked them afterwards."

"In fact, they enjoyed it so much, that they actually kept coming back for more, even after I had already promised to give them what they wanted."

"What about Lisa?"

"Lisa is a greedy slut. Only gets down on her knees for me when she wants something and never shows up after she got it."

"But with you...I believe that you are gonna be like Jennie and Rosé. You are gonna come back for more. I know you will. You can't resist."

"That's never going to happen. I'm only doing this once."

"We'll see about that..." I said, as Jisoo put her hand on the base of my shaft and gently held it steady, before she started stroking it slowly.

"Good girl. Stroke that cock, Jisoo."

"Make it nice and hard before you put it in your mouth."

As Jisoo continued her slow strokes, I could see that Jisoo's face was getting closer and closer to the tip of my dick. And soon, I felt her hot breath hitting my cock, followed by a very gentle lick on the tip.

"Go on. You can start sucking it. I know you are dying to."

"Shut up."

"C'mon. Stop teasing. Put that big cock in your mouth and suck it."

Jisoo shot a sharp look up at me, before she opened her mouth and enveloped the head of my cock between her lips. Her eyes widened a bit as she took more and more of my thick shaft into her mouth, and it wasn't long before she started bobbing her head.

"Ahhhh, good girlllll. See, that wasn't so difficult, now, was it?"

"Now go on and suck my dick like the slutty idol you are."

Jisoo's eyes were focused on the base of my dick, watching her own saliva coating the whole thing as her hand stroked it, and she sucked on the tip. She then began licking the underside of my shaft, from the base, all the way up to the tip, where she swirled her tongue for a moment, before taking more of my dick back in her mouth.

"Fuckkkk, Jisoo...you really enjoy doing this, don't you? Look at you, slobbering all over my cock. I wonder what your fans would say if they could see their favourite idol now."

"I bet they'd be surprised to see just how talented that mouth of yours really is."

"Can you please shut up while I'm doing this? I don't want to be here."

"You know you can leave, right? I'm not forcing you to be here."

"I know I can...but I will gain nothing if I do, so I'm just going to continue sucking your cock."

True to her word, Jisoo did exactly that. She went back to work on my cock, taking it deep inside her mouth, her lips stretching around the shaft. As she continued working her way down, inch by inch, I couldn't help but throw my head back and moan softly.

It didn't take long before I saw a string of spit dripping from the corner of her mouth, down her chin, and onto her top, as she kept sliding her lips up and down, going a bit deeper each time.

"You want to go solo, don't you Jisoo?"

"Mmhhhmmm." She hummed, nodding her head as she kept my cock inside her mouth, sucking and slurping lewdly, coating it with her warm saliva.

"Good. Because you are doing a great job, but you are never going to make me cum if you keep going at this pace."

"You are going to have to do a whole lot better than that if you want your solo debut."

"Show me how much you want to be a star." I said, and Jisoo immediately began rapidly sucking and slurping all over my cock, moving her head up and down, whilst she stroked the bottom of my shaft with one hand and played with my balls with the other.

"Oh my god, Jisoo!...yesssss."

"That is so much better, fuckkkk."

"Suck that dick, girl."

Jisoo was driving me completely insane with her blowjob skills, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes into the back of my head as I also put my arms on the back of the couch and leaned my head back, moaning in pleasure.

"Fuck, I love this. Don't stop, Jisoo. Keep sucking my big dick just like that."

"I bet this is the biggest cock you've ever sucked, isn't it?"

"I've sucked dicks bigger than yours." She said, before putting her lips around my cock and taking my length inside her mouth once again.

It was an answer that left me both intrigued and very pissed off, and so I decided to let out my frustration on her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pushing her head down until her lips reached the base.

"Take that whole fucking thing, Jisoo. All the way down your throat."

Jisoo moaned and gagged a bit as my cock hit the back of her throat. I kept pushing her head until she managed to swallow the entire thing, my balls resting on her chin. I held her there for a few seconds, and I could feel her swallowing around the tip of my cock.

Jisoo began coughing, and she tried to pull her head off my cock, but I didn't let her, and so I kept her head down. After a while, she stopped trying to fight it, and let me keep her head still as I began fucking her throat, causing her to choke and gag around me.

"Look at you...choking on my big dick just because you are an impatient little bitch."

"Jennie, Lisa and Rosé would be so proud of you right now if they walked in, watching you following in their footsteps."

I kept using Jisoo's mouth and throat like my personal fleshlight, constantly feeding her my big cock as my balls slapped her chin every time she took it all the way down. She was choking and gagging, saliva leaking out her mouth and rolling down her chin and neck.

After a few more thrusts, I finally released her head, and she pulled herself off my cock, with a small stream of saliva dripping from her mouth, onto my cock. She took deep breaths, and coughed a few times, before turning her attention back to my dick.

"Open your mouth." I said before I stood up, and Jisoo, much to my surprise, didn't put up a fight. She did as she was told, and stuck her tongue out. I didn't waste any second, and began slapping her tongue and face with my wet cock.

"Yeah, you like that, huh? You love being slapped in the face with my big dick, don't you?"

"Say it!"

"Say that you love being slapped in the face with my big fat cock."

"I love...I love being slapped...in the face with your big, fat cock." She said, still showing some signs of resentment.

"Yeah, you better."

"Keep sticking your tongue out, baby. You look so beautiful like this, Jisoo." I said, as I kept alternating between smacking her face and her tongue with my hard cock, using her face for my own pleasure.

I didn't know who to thank at that time. Either Jisoo, for her songs being so average, or my father, for giving me so much power in the company, but at the end of the day, I guess the only thing that mattered was that I had one of the most famous and beloved Korean singers in the world, down on her knees, taking a beating from my big dick.

After a few more smacks, I began rubbing my balls all over her face, and she started licking them, before she took them into her mouth and started sucking on them.

"There you go, Jisoo. Good girl. Suck on those balls."

"Take them both into your mouth. I know you can do it." I said, before sitting back down and letting Jisoo do her thing.

I felt Jisoo's warm and wet tongue licking all over my ballsack, before she opened her mouth wider, and slowly engulfed my balls, rolling her tongue around them, and sucking on them hungrily.

Jisoo was doing such a good job, that I actually started wondering if was enjoying it or not. If she was, she was doing a very good job at hiding it. Or maybe she was just that determined to get what she wanted. Whatever the case, the pleasure was still overwhelming, and the way her soft and wet tongue felt on my balls, and the suction of her mouth, was simply magical.

As if things couldn't get any better, she started stroking my cock whilst she feasted on my balls, without me having to tell her anything. I was turned on beyond belief, and I knew I couldn't resist much longer.

After a couple more minutes of Jisoo worshipping my balls, she finally let go and looked at me.

"Make me cum, Jisoo...I'm so close."

Jisoo took a deep breath before she opened her mouth even wide and went right back in, engulfing my whole dick once again, before she came back to the tip, and started rapidly sucking the head whilst she stroked my cock with her saliva covered hand, making her handjob incredibly slippery.

She then started deepthroating my cock by letting it go deeper and deeper into her mouth, until she was choking herself on my cock. Jisoo was desperate to make me cum so that she could leave my office and forget this ever happened.

Jisoo wasn't as cute as Rosé, as hot as Lisa, or even as sexy as Jennie. She was however, by far, the most beautiful out of the four. Nobody this beautiful should be on her knees, sucking a cock, and yet, here she was, slurping all over my cock to further her career.

"You are a good little cocksucker, aren't you?"

"I know I'm good at sucking dick. I don't need your approval."

"Well, if that's true, then you should have no problem getting me to cum, shouldn't you?"

"So do it. Make me cum and show me why you deserve to have it all."

Jisoo looked me right in the eyes, and then she got back to work. She put both hands around my cock and began stroking it in a corkscrew motion, whilst she was sucking the tip of my penis.

"Oh my god, that's it, girl. Do it faster."

"Suck my fucking cock until I cum down your throat."

She sped up her movements and soon enough, she was jacking me off at a very high pace, whilst her lips and tongue focused on the sensitive head. I could feel the familiar feeling of my climax coming, and I was so ready to give Jisoo what she deserved.

"Here it comes, Jisoo."

"Fucking take it." I said, holding the back of her head and shoving her down onto my cock, making her take it all the way down her throat, as my cum splattered inside her mouth.

"Fuuuuuck, yesssss. Open your mouth. Let me see all that cum."

Jisoo pulled her mouth off my cock and opened it, showing me her entire mouthful of cum. I couldn't believe how much jizz I had just shot inside her, and the sight of her holding it in her mouth was driving me wild.

"Swallow it, baby. Don't waste any drop, Jisoo."

Jisoo struggled a bit, but she managed to swallow all of my seed, without missing a drop. She opened her mouth to show me once again that it was empty, and I let out the biggest grin.

"Clean my cock. C'mon, I don't have all day."

She rolled her eyes, but she did as I said, and wrapped her lips around the tip of my dick, and sucked the remaining cum off of it.

"Good girl." I said, as I let her pull herself off of my cock. She licked her lips, and wiped her mouth, before standing up.

"So, do I have my solo debut?" She asked, looking rather displeased.

"No, not yet. Go over there and bend over the desk."

"What?! But you told me to make you cum."

"I did say that, but I didn't tell you how many times." I said, with a smirk on my face.

"You're a liar. Bastard!!!" Jisoo said, shouting at me whilst pointing her finger at me.

"Are you done?"

"Fuck you."

"I promise you'll get what you want if you make me cum one more time."

"Why should I trust you? You've already proven to me that you are a lying piece of shit."

"That's fair. But if you really want your solo debut, then you don't have a choice."

"Ughhh, fine. I hate you. I swear, you'll pay for this."

"You can say whatever you want, but I know you are secretly loving this."

"Just hurry up and fuck me so that we can end this."

"Very well...like I said...bend over the desk and spread those legs for me."

"Asshole..." She muttered under her breath, as she walked to the desk and bent over, sticking her ass out and spreading her legs wide, waiting for me.

I stood up from the couch, and made my way towards her, grabbing her by her waist.

"Mmmhh, what a nice view. I think this is the first time I have seen you in a position like this, Jisoo."

"Can we please not talk?"

"Aren't you excited to feel a big cock inside your tight little pussy, Jisoo?" I asked, to no avail, as Jisoo just ignored me.

I grabbed her leggings and panties, and pulled them both down, exposing her ass and wet pussy. She wasn't soaking wet, but I knew that it was only a matter of time.

I rubbed the tip of my dick all over her pussy lips, coating it with her juices. Her pussy felt amazing, and it wasn't long before I started getting hard again. I stroked my cock a few times until I was fully erect, and then I gave it a couple of smacks against her ass, and pussy.

"Beg for it, Jisoo. Beg me to fuck you."

"Please don't make me say it. I really don't want to."

"Say it, or the deal is off." I said, to which Jisoo just sighed.

"Please, fuck my pussy with your big cock!"

"Happy?"

"I am, and I will be even happier when I cum inside you."

"NO. Please don't. You can't cum inside me."

"My load is either ending up inside you or on your face. It's your choice."

"Is there really no other choice?"

"Nope."

Jisoo thought about it for quite a long time, as I just kept rubbing my cock against her slippery folds, waiting for an answer.

"Please don't cum inside me, okay? Pull out and finish on my face. Just...don't come inside."

"Don't worry, I won't. You can trust me. I am a trustworthy man." I said, and Jisoo almost burst into laughter.

"You are unbelievable..."

"I know I am. I get that a lot."

"Oh god...are you gonna fuck me or what?"

"Patience, Jisoo. Now...relax and let me fill your pretty little cunt." I said, as I pushed my hips forwards and slid the head inside, causing Jisoo to gasp. She was unbelievably tight, the way her walls hugged my dick was amazing, and it made me let out a grunt of satisfaction.

"This pussy is so fucking good, oh god."

As I finally slid into her, a rush of realization hit me—I'd done it. I’d been with all four members of Blackpink. The sheer thought of being one of the few guys, if not the first one in the whole world to do it was mind-blowing, and it made me so horny that I didn't hesitate for a second before pulling my hips back, and thrusting forward, burying my entire cock deep inside her pussy as I felt Jisoo’s tight warmth wrap around me.

Jisoo's pussy was so incredibly tight, that all I really wanted was to feel my cock rub against her walls very slowly. For several minutes, the room was almost completely silent, and the only noise you could hear was the sound of my moans every now and then, until Jisoo broke the silence.

"Ha..."

"What was that?"

"Har...Harder."

"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you correctly."

"Please.....fuck me harder."

No amount of words could describe how happy and satisfied I was upon hearing Jisoo's request, and I happily obliged. So, without any warning, I immediately started fucking her like an animal, pounding her from behind with deep and fast thrusts.

"Oh, FUCK. Yes."

"I knew you would come around."

"Oh, shut the fuck up and fuck me hard."

Jisoo became a moaning mess, and it wasn't long before my thrusts were in perfect sync with hers, as she would push her ass back every time I thrust into her, making our bodies meet midway.

"Does that cock feel good, Jisoo?"

"Mmmmhhhmmm. It feels so fucking good."

"You like having that big cock inside your tight little pussy?"

"Yes...I love having your big cock in my pussy."

"Are you going to let me come inside you?"

"No. I would still rather take your load on my face."

"Very well." I said. It was worth the shot, but I wasn't that upset. After all, I was enjoying the amazing sex that I was having with one of the most beautiful idols in the world.

I fucked her hard and fast, slamming into her so fast, her legs began trembling. The sound of skin slapping and heavy breathing was music to my ears, and I didn't think it could get any better than this, until Jisoo decided to put her right leg up on the desk, allowing me to hit deeper and go even harder.

"Oh my god, this has to be the best pussy I have ever fucked."

"Every guy I let fuck me always says the same thing."

"I bet they do." I said, as I kept hammering away, causing the desk to move a few inches.

"Fuck me! Oh, fuck yes! Harder!"

"Make me cum on your big cock."

"Who does this pussy belong to? Huh?"

"You, baby. My pussy belongs to you."

"Fuck, yesss. Give me that dick. I love this fucking cock."

I was taken by surprise by how eager and desperate Jisoo had suddenly become. Maybe it was because my very slow thrusts at the start made her horny and desperate for something more than just that, or maybe she was just saying that to get me to blow my load.

Either way, I was going to make sure to enjoy every second of it. I continued pumping into her, and it wasn't long before I saw her reach a hand between her legs, and begin fingering herself.

"Holy shit. That's fucking hot, Jisoo."

"Keep going. Don't stop fingering that pussy."

"Fuck, I love fucking your tight little pussy."

"I want you to make me cum on your dick, and then I want you to pull out and cum all over my face. Can you do that for me, baby?"

"Yes, baby. I'll cum all over your face. Just keep fingering yourself."

The room was filled with the smell of sex, and the sounds of moaning, heavy breathing, and the wet sound of my cock going in and out of Jisoo's pussy, and the sloppy noises that were made every time Jisoo would finger herself.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked it back, pulling her head backwards. She screamed and moaned in pleasure, as I kept pounding her harder and harder, the desk shaking underneath us.

"Fuck, keep fucking me, baby."

"Your big dick feels so good inside me."

"Make me cum on your big cock."

"Yesssss. Keep doing that. Right there. I'm so close."

Jisoo's voice was shaky, and her breaths were becoming shorter and deeper with every one of my thrusts, and it wasn't long before her loud moans got muffled, as she bit her lip to prevent herself from screaming.

"Don't stop, Jisoo. Come for me."

"Fuccckkkk, yesss. Just like that. Make me cum."

Jisoo's body shook violently as she squirted all over the desk and floor, her orgasm making her pussy clamp down on my cock. Her loud moan echoed through the office, and the tightness of her pussy was just too much to handle.

"Get down on your knees, Jisoo. I'm gonna cum." I said, and Jisoo rapidly got down on her knees and took my dick in her hand.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She said, and then she began jacking me off.

"Come on...make a mess on my face."

"Cover me in your cum."

"Paint my face with your warm cum."

"Fuck. Here it comes, Jisoo. Look at me."

"Open your mouth, girl."

"Let me see that tongue."

"Fucccck, Jisoo. Fuckkkkkk." I groaned as I came, my cum spraying all over Jisoo's pretty little face, coating her eyes, cheeks, nose, and forehead, as well as her lips and chin.

"Mmmhhh, yeah. Give me all that cum, baby." She said, opening her mouth and letting her tongue out, as she stroked my cock and aimed it towards her face, catching some spurts of cum in her mouth, and swallowing them.

"How does it taste?"

"Hmmm, surprisingly good."

"So...do I have my solo debut or not?"

"You do. I will announce the decision to the other members of the board tomorrow morning, and we should have all of the social media posts ready tomorrow as well."

"Oh my god, thank you so much." She said, giving me a hug.

"Yeah, yeah...now go get yourself cleaned up before you leave my office and the building."

"Nobody can see you like that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Thank you once again."

"Your welcome. And see you tomorrow, same time." I said, with a smirk on my face.

"Yeah right..." Jisoo said, just before closing the door behind her.

"Oh...what a night." I muttered under my breath, before taking a seat back down.

...

Just like I expected, Jisoo did indeed return the following day, even showing up a little earlier than the day before, at a time when there were actually quite a few people outside my office, working. After chatting a bit and swapping a couple of looks between us two, Jisoo crawled under my desk and fished out my cock, before taking it into her mouth.

The more days that passed, the earlier she arrived and the longer she stayed, as we fucked in every position imaginable inside my office. She even let me fuck her ass and cum inside her pussy.

Because of this job that I only got because of who my father was, not only was I rich and never had to worry about money for the rest of my life, but it also gave me the opportunity to fuck every girl of the hottest, most popular and most successful K-pop girl group of all time.

It was safe to say, that I truly had the best job in the world.

[fictionfuel]

You've caught on. There's no denying it. Caleb has gotten larger. Granted, he's always been larger. Since you and he were kids, he has been shorter than you. Only by mere inches, he just reached in between your eyes. The many times you have gone cross-eyed because the dummy would come close to your face. Just to see your expression slip, because your blasé facade would slip. And, damn, did Caleb get a kick out of that. You didn't. Flicking him in the forehead and scowling down your nose. "Pipsqueak," you tease. Mirth dripping in the now-familiar nickname that's thrown right back at you. "Pipsqueak? Space case, you there?" Caleb waved his broad hand in front of your face. You blink, your eyes bouncing from the table to Caleb's towering frame, bent at the waist. His comfortable gaze bores into your own questioning expression. "Yes, yes. I'm here, landing safely back to earth, Colonel." You jested, poking the tip of your tongue out from the corner of your mouth.

This jest earns a cocked brow and a subtle upward turn of his lips. "Alrighty, Pips. I'm heading to the gym; wanna tag along?" You groaned in annoyance, "again, Caleb," you whined pathetically.

"You've been going non-stop since I arrived in Skyhaven. Can you please just spend a day with me? Instead, with your stupid workout equipment." You crossed your arms over your chest, pursing your lips. Throwing your head over your shoulder in defiance. "I have to keep in shape; the Fleet hasn't departed into Deep Space in a month. The next mission isn't going to happen for another month; I can't fall behind. Plus, I have to keep my Pipsqueak safe." Caleb's eye fell into a cheeky wink, attempting to cover up the real reason. You scoffed, "bullshit, I know that's a lie." Your sock-clad feet strode right up to the Colonel, nose to broad chest. You raise your right index finger, your nail poking his left pectoral. The tip of your finger sinks right into plushness. The flesh gives easily to the force of your finger, almost engulfing your entire appendage. "Fuck me," you murmured. Your eyes widen, pupils dilating. Retracting your finger, your dainty hand deftly cups Caleb's tits. Massaging in pulsing motions, enticed by the flesh spilling between the gaps of your fingers. "H-hey, can you stop that!" Caleb's callous fingers grasp your wrist in motion to pry your hand off. Your thumbnail nail swipes his nipple, ripping a deep, rumbling groan. Your attention shoots straight to your childhood friend, pupils blown so wide not a sliver of colour left in your eyes. The perfectly sculpted, put-together Colonel was always so playful and ready for anything. Is ready to be fucked raw. A cherry blossom flush spreads like watercolour, his little freckles across his nose like dark stars coming out to play. Morphing his flesh to a hue of pleasure, his pouty lips parted for harsh intakes of breath. Coming out in heavy pants, eliciting rapid raises of his chest. "Pips, please don't. Not that, anything but that." He pleads, his eyes flutter. Those thick lashes kiss his warm cheekbones. A void swirls in those fresh evening eyes; the deep plum merges elegantly with pale pink. An enticing sight to behold, those puppy-like eyes rapture you for decades. Yet, they hold a yearning you want to not only grasp, but it's tangible. "Caleb, who knew you had sensitive tits?"

@/fictionfuel 2025. Don’t repost, steal, claim as your own, or use to train AI. Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[seresinhangmanjake]

Staying

Remmick x fem!reader

Summary: All the reasons Remmick uses to justify staying with his human girl.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, like two sentences of mild smut (still 18+ just in case), mention of self-harm but not mental illness related. I think that's it.

Words: 730

I don't support the actions of this character in the movie at all. I just think the guy's hot.

Sinners Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

He stays because it’s easy. He stays because he’s tired and he’s weak. Because he hasn’t fed in days. Because you tell him he must surely be a nice man to walk a stranger home in the rain, and how naive is that? He stays because as he sticks a bite of ‘thank you’ pie in his mouth—which tastes awful, as all human food does—you can’t stop staring at his mouth, and it amuses him.

He stays because your voice is like poured honey when you mention how lonely you are. Because you smile at him when he tells you you’re the prettiest darned thing he’s seen in a while, and darlin’, he’s seen an awful lot of things. He stays because he’s missed the taste of human, and now he’s consumed with a desperate craving to have his lips on yours and his tongue in your mouth and his fangs in your neck.

He stays because he likes being inside you. Because he likes the melody of moans and whimpers that are as powerful as a worshipper's hymn. Because you cling to him like he’s your savior rather than your damnation, and it’s been a bit since he’s felt this cherished. Because you say his name so sweetly that, from this point forward, he only ever wants to hear it from your mouth. He stays because, yes, obviously he's going to drink you dry; any day now.

He stays because he finds you weeping on the floor one night, thinking he abandoned you when the truth is his hunt went a little too long. He stays because the look on your face cracks something inside of him, and maybe he should just be honest with you, maybe you're ready, but what if you’re not? He stays because when he cradles you, you kiss him and make him promise not to leave you, even though a part of him already decided that he never will. Because you’ve made it much too easy to fall for you, and it’s confusing and unsettling and he did not agree to this but, gosh darn it, it’s too late now.

He stays because he thinks you know. Because you’ve got this look in your eye. Because the townsfolk have been disappearing left and right, and that’s rather odd, isn’t it? He stays because you mention to him that gossip is spreading about bodies being left out in the open, and suggest that this killer, whoever they are, ought not be so sloppy in the future. He stays because when you wipe a bit of excess blood from the corner of his mouth, you raise your brow at him and suck it off your thumb like you would the juice of a berry. 

He stays because you finally ask him; you’re tired of pretending. Because when you tell him you shouldn’t have secrets from one another, there’s a pout on your lips, and that pout always gets him hard. He stays because when he shows you his elongated teeth, you don’t flinch, you don’t bristle, you don’t pull away from him. Because after nicking your finger on one of the sharp points, you push him back onto the couch and ride him until he’s groaning against your chest and spilling into your cunt.

He stays because you want to be turned, but he should be leaving, definitely leaving if he doesn’t want to ruin your life. He stays because, despite being releluctant, he’s selfish and needy and he can’t be without you. Because you draw a knife over your wrist right in front of him and tell him to make a choice: turn you or lose you forever, and no, no, losing you…he’ll die all over again, and once was painful enough.

He stays because your hand holds his head firmly against you when he sinks his fangs into your neck, sighing like it’s pleasure, not pain, like it’s ecstasy. Because when you awake reborn, your eyes are brighter and your smile wider, and he didn’t know love could go this deep. He stays because as it turns out, you hunt better than he does, and well, fuck, he’s never wanted you more, so he couldn't possibly leave you now; where's the sense in that?

He stays because when he’s with you, decades that once dragged on and on now pass like fleeting seconds. Because he has learned that home occupies no land and is instead wherever you go. Because you are lover and friend and companion and family, and centuries spent alone made him forget how much he needs that. He stays because, each time he looks at you, he knows there is no forever that will ever be enough. 

[shycloudkitty]

Just one more minute...

Summary: Your husband has to leave for yet another mission but he's not quite ready to let you go yet… So he just savors…each… moment… 

Pairing: Death Island! Leon × Fem reader

Tags: a bit angsty but lots of comfort, Leon sleeping peacefully for once in his life, fluff, established relationship. Just overall a short comfy read <3

WC: 1.3K

Masterlist | Ao3 account

Small droplets of rain splatter on the windows of your bedroom. The soft sound created a soothing lullaby for the ears for those who were sleeping to it. The cloudy weather and the chill air contributed in making it the most serene environment while you stay snuggled up peacefully in your husband's arms with a warm blanket over you. 

His arms stayed around your waist holding you gently in a warm embrace, face nuzzling your hair, gentle breathing warming your neck. This was always his favorite position to fall asleep to. Your smell, your soft touch, your weight beneath him, telling him that you were really here… You were real. 

Your arms were wrapped around his bare torso and face buried in his chest. Feeling his body warmth seep into your skin. Limbs trained to take life, now just protecting you from the chill air and comforting you in your sleep. 

It was such a simple moment, just a couple sleeping and relaxing in each other's comfort. But at the same time it was so rare between you two. Just having these simple moments with him felt like a blessing. It was heaven.

And why wasn't it normal for both of you? Right. He had a job of saving the world, do or die, special agent... You get the idea. Except his job wasn't exactly a James Bond one. That only happened in movies. No, this was more grim than what they show in the movies. But what can you do when these are the cards life dealt you with? 

But he always felt inspired by you, how you handled every situation thrown at you with grace. Obviously, he wasn't a fool, he could see it was tough but still tried your best. Even in this relationship, you handle everything with so much love and care…he never had someone who sticked with him more than a few months let alone actually get married to. 

He didn’t hold anything against his exes, like his life was basically swamped with work so he understood why they left. What was actually confusing? You staying in his life, despite everything. You stayed even when he missed some of the important moments of your life. Sadly, that was the reality of his job. You win some, you lose some.

He was obviously happy that you stayed with him despite everything but he never quite understood why? He couldn't help but ask you this question. He remembers seeing your cheeks get red, avoiding his gaze and softly saying ‘I love you’. He also recalls saying ‘thank you’ in response because of how flustered he got from the confession. 

That memory always makes him facepalm himself.

After the day of your confession it was like his world flipped. And even though he didn't understand it fully at the time he wanted to do everything in his power to keep you in his life, even if it meant catering to your every whim. He listened to everything you said, trying to remember the best he could. 

He actually has a secret folder on his phone containing everything about your likes and dislikes just in case he needs a refresher. 

He didn’t even realize when it happened but he fell in love with you and wanted to keep you in his life forever. Thankfully, you felt the same way when he got down on one knee and asked if you wanted to marry him. He almost lost the ring with how nervous he was, fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket every 5 minutes.

It's been a few years since he tied down the knot with you and it was the best decision of his life. Sure, being married presents its own set of problems, sometimes things get rocky between you two, but there was nothing you both couldn't solve. Sometimes the problems needed talking, other times he could tell without you saying a word. But each time he makes it known that he loves you. Always. 

The soft rain slowly stirs Leon awake, he glances at his surroundings and then looks down at your sleeping face with his bleary eyes. He yawns and rubs his eyes, the digital clock on his nightstand read 6:30am. 

It was still half an hour early before he had to go to work today for some missing person assignment Hunnigan gave out. He didn’t wanna go but apparently it was top priority and needs his immediate attention. He told you about it last night, you weren't exactly happy since it was last minute but at this point you had grown used to it.

He tilts his head and looks at your serene face, caressing your cheek and sighing. His lips press a soft kiss on your forehead and gently threads his fingers through your hair. His voice comes as a soft whisper. “I don't wanna go either… you know that, right?” You probably knew how he felt about going too. You could read him like a book at this point. 

His eyes flit through your soft features, taking note of your breathing, slow and deep, fully relaxed. He smiles to himself and whispers in the same soft voice. “God, you’re so beautiful. You always are.” he lovingly brushes some hair out of your face. “I'm really lucky I get to see you like this, feels like I'm in heaven even if I probably won't ever go there. You do so much for us, I wish I could just stop this moment for us and never let go.”

He sighs softly and slowly pulls you closer to the warmth of his chest, trying not to jostle you too much. He closes his eyes briefly, focusing on your warmth. And starts mumbling to himself. “Honestly, if I was a poet I would have written dozens of poems about you. They probably would have been corny but you would have liked it.”

He gently starts brushing your hair again and continues. “But since I'm not… I don't have enough words to fully express how much you mean to me. The fact that we’re still together, makes me the luckiest fool ever lived. My heart hurts sometimes because of how happy I get cause of you.”

He sighs and mumbles. “I'm not normal…never have been. But with you…I feel that I finally became the man that I was supposed to be. And that I finally have a place called home."

He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. He didn't know what had possessed to become so sentimental this early. “I'm really cheesy aren't I?”

He felt soft teardrops on his chest where your face was resting. You had woken up from his rambling. 

His heart clenches from realization. He gulps, feeling the sudden lump rise up in his throat. He hugs you tighter and rubs your bare back. “I will come back, I promise.” Softly pressing a kiss on your shoulder. 

He glances at the time again. It was nearly 6:55am. He had to start getting ready for work. 

He slowly tilts your face, wiping away the tears from your shining eyes. His expression softens, cupping your face in his hands and softly kisses you. He feels you kiss him back, your grip on his arm tight. 

After a few moments you both slowly pull back from the kiss, eyes closed, foreheads resting against one another, soft breathing filling the quiet room. He softly mumbles. “I have to get ready now sweetheart.”

He feels you shake your head in response. Your soft voice fills the room. “No…wait for few more minutes. Just stay.”

He gulps and nods. He wasn't strong enough to deny that request. He pulls you close, covering both of you in the blanket. “Of course, darling.” And press soft kisses on your shoulder. 

Enjoying these quiet moments of solace with you. Even if he couldn't make this moment last forever, he knew he would come back to relish it again... 

Usually I wouldn't say this but I would very much appreciate it if you left comments, obviously if you want to. It helps me improve and encourages me to write more. 😊❤

-Bella

[cheol-e-kat]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐜.𝐬𝐜

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

summary: y/n’s ex has never fully left her life. but then again how could he when they’re both attorneys at top firms and constantly in opposition.

when they’re finally on the same side, can they let the past go to make a path for the future?

word count (teaser): 700

genre: exes to lovers, rivals, slice of life, attorney au, attorney!seungcheol, attorney!reader, there’s only one bed, idiots in love, *smut

warnings for teaser: none

a/n: lol if you guess my job - anywayyyy, i feel like this is more than the one shot i was imagining, so if you want to be tagged, leave a comment or use my tag list ^^ thanks to everyone for reading, kisses

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

master list & tag list

Y/n had known Seungcheol for longer than she liked to admit, and in most instances, he was simply a thorn in her side. She represented people harmed by a company, and he was across the aisle, protecting the company who was completely responsible. 

Even if she was representing a company that had been harmed, their firms were never on the same side, therefore, they were never on the same side. And it didn’t help that they were painfully competitive, even as professionals. They ran against one another for board positions. 

And then there was who could write the most articles in their “spare” time. So far y/n was winning that one with two more publications than Seungcheol. Even if it meant not sleeping - she had more publications next to her name in the alumni publication for the last year. But he was always nipping at her heels. 

But then ‘it’ had happened. 

They had had one case where their firms were on the same side, meaning they were both stuck in some shit hole jurisdiction for weeks on end, with very little to distract them. Not to mention that they were both in the same hotel, which wasn’t shocking given there were two hotels in the whole place and they were booked out with attorneys, journalists, and experts. 

The ‘it’, though, was Seungcheol somehow ending up without a hotel room. Which, if what y/n had happened to hear in the elevator was true, there was some asshole at seungcheol’s firm who was looking to make his life miserable. 

Y/n didn’t love that - ruining Seungcheol’s life was her job. 

She still had his number from when they had first met in college, when they might have been something - she texted him.

[Y/n]

Need a room?

She had waited for him to ask who was texting. She assumed he had deleted her number.

[Cheollie]

How do you know about that?

She rolled her eyes.

[Y/n]

Is that really the important thing?

[Cheollie]

You magically have a room?

[Y/n]

It’s an offer to share but I would suggest you don’t bunk with whatever his name is - the blonde with horrifying bowties - he might actually hate you

She had watched dots - and dots - and then they died away.

[Cheollie]

What room?

જ⁀➴

She had opened the door when he knocked. He looked just exhausted enough to have accepted without too much pressure, which she thought was maybe actually good for him since he, realistically, had no other choice.

She had let him in, glad that she had sprung for the largest room she could. It meant there was a bed and a small sofa, which she imagined Seungcheol could fit on, admittedly, with problems, but that wasn’t her concern.

“Bad flight?” she asked.

He flopped on the tiny sofa, “Fucking shit flight and a four hour layover with no restaurants,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry,” she patted his head as she went to get ready for bed in the bathroom. 

When she came out, she noticed that he was already asleep and looking especially too large for the sofa he had taken without even asking her.

She felt a little bad, but not enough to wake him up. His flight sounded awful - why not let him sleep, she thought to herself. 

She sat up, looking through some files, until she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. She decided it was time for bed, which was just in time for Seungcheol to roll off the tiny sofa, landing with a soft thunk. 

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. She watched him sit up, eyes barely open, and his rumpled hair. ‘Cute,’ that was what she immediately thought - how cute he looked. It was the one consistent thing she always felt about him - he was unquestionably cute.  

“Seungcheol,” she saw him glance at her, “just come here.” She patted the empty half of the bed next to her. 

She knew she didn’t sound the appropriate level of exasperated, but she didn’t really care. It wouldn’t be the first time they had shared a bed. 

She was glad that he didn’t argue - he just flopped in the bed the way she remembered. But when she woke up to realize their limbs were tangled and his arm was around her waist, she stared into space, trying to decide if she would elbow him or not. But her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Y/n,” his voice was so soft and close. 

She didn’t move - she wasn’t sure what would happen next. But he just moved closer, his breath warm at the nape of her neck.

“Missed you,” he mumbled.

a/n: i actually started this fic like a month ago, and idk the new hugo boss photo is way too perfect for this banner skskss he’s such a mood

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] - if you want to be tagged in this fic you can leave a comment or the tag list form

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 ^^

angst - [ a ] || fluff - [ f ] || smut - [ s ]

teasers: all but break your heart |୨୧| tonight tonight

drabbles: co-worker & spanking [ s ] |୨୧| gamer boy [ s ] |୨୧| professor one [ s ] | valentine's day [ f ] #kat_drabbles

fluff: profound, not sudden [ f ]

smut: see bingo series above and random slutty thoughts collection

series: obvious affection [ pt. 1 f ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] |୨୧| 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇. 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] [ pt. 3 f & s ]

seungcheol bingo [warning all smut]: knotting + marking | professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) | monster | spanking (neighbor seungcheol) | big dick + hate sex | forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) | voyeurism + punishment | coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (never let you go pt. 1) | bodyguard + drunk confession | anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing | big dick!cheol + hate sex (choose your own adventure) | sexual frustration + ex sex |

omegaverse (a/b/o): alpha seungcheol [pt. 1 s] [pt. 2 s] || never let you go [master list] [part 1 f & s] [part 2 f ] ||

[ taglist ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @thepoopdokyeomtouched [e - multi/priv] ☁︎

☁︎ @liaaya-17 [c.sc - multi] ☁︎

[quarterlifekitty]

Read buttermilk today and now @ceilidho got me on that babysitter grindset… but what if I freaked it up a little.

cw: age gap (reader is around 21 and Soap is like 29ish), something sorta flirting with/on the edge of fauxcest due to a sibling-like bond, so I’m gonna tag it as such just in case.

Before Johnny enlisted, he’d only ever had one paying job.

Taking care of you.

About eight years your senior, your mom decided to go back to working when you were around 4 and he was on the cusp of 13. And for 5 years (an eternity to a kid like you) he was your best friend in the world. Would get out of school, walk to the elementary school to get you, bring you home, and hang out until whenever your parents got off of work.

And the boy was devoted. Didn’t mind that he had to put off hanging with his friends till the weekend. Didn’t mind making your snacks or watching silly kids movies. Didn’t mind when you asked him to play pretend veterinarian with you, and he had to lay down and act like a really sick horse. And you loved him.

The first time your parents took you on a vacation and you realized he wouldn’t be there? You were so mad. As mad as a 4 year old can be.

You’re embarrassed when you cry at the news that he’s enlisting— at age 10 you’re not supposed to cry anymore, you’re a big girl. He hugs you so tight, early in the morning before he has to go.

His folks move during his first tour. There isn’t an anchor to bring him back to you for a very long time. Over a decade, as it turns out.

He’s getting ready to go on leave when he gets a call— his mum buzzing with some kind of gossip as usual.

“You’ll never guess who I saw down at Sainsbury’s—“

Your university happens to be in the town his family moved to. He has his own place now of course, but he likes to keep close to them.

His first night back and his mum is beside herself— trying to get the place nice, because you’re joining them for dinner. Johnny never even considers that when you come to the door, you’re not the little girl he left tearing up on her parents porch.

He has to remember to close his mouth at the sight of you. His dad offers you a beer for fuck’s sake. He’s amazed at how much has changed— but also, how much is the same. The curve of your nose, and bubble of your laughter, the way your eyes widen with interest.

You happen to be on break right now. So of course, he ends up unwittingly spending all of his leave with you. You were always a funny kid— you’re a lot funnier now that you can swear. And you were always cute but now you’re so… pretty.

And he is not a fucking fan of the kind of attention it gets you. The way guys look at you when you’re sitting alone, waiting for him at a coffee shop. How your phone goes off at least once every 20 minutes, and it’s almost always ‘this guy from your class’. He tells himself that it’s just because he was responsible for you for so long— that he’s just having trouble shaking that off. He just remembers when you were so innocent— he doesn’t wanna see you get chewed up and spit out by college boys.

And he keeps finding himself falling into old patterns. Making you stay still so he can wipe your mouth after having a bit of a messy danish. Holding your hand tight when you’re in a busy place, crossing any streets. Having you tell him what you want so he can order things for you. Picking you up so he can hear you giggle and tell him to put you down.

He tells himself that when he touches himself later that it’s just because being away for work has left him touch starved and sensitive. It’s only natural to get turned on by a pretty girl who leans into him… especially when you get along so famously.

(Even though he remembers playing I spy while he held your hand and walked you home from school, your little backpack slung over his shoulder, even though he had his own to carry. )

Before he knows it, it’s his last night at home, ending it off with another of his mum’s dinners. At the table you casually mention the graduate schools you’re thinking of going to— some close by, some not. He almost chokes when you mention that there’s a really nice school in Canada you were considering.

That’s when he knows he’s fucked. Because he doesn’t think of that as you getting on with your life. Of a girl getting her education. He thinks of that as losing you, and after the bliss of the past couple of weeks he’s had with you, he’s not sure he’ll take being separated from you nearly as long as he did the last time. Not to mention all of the guys at your school trying to get their hands on you.

So he’s gonna have to find a way to get you too invested to travel far. And figure out how to protect you from those assholes when he’s not around.

Making you a part of his family and putting his ring on your finger should be enough, right?

[setmeatopthepyre]

♠ for Bucktommy pls?

coming right up!

♠ One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/etc. [bucktommy | 944 words]

“Evan?”

Buck looked over his shoulder, caught sight of Tommy’s puzzled frown, gave the sauce another stir and then turned down the heat. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“What are you wearing?”

Buck glanced down at his apron. It was… just an apron. One of the aprons he usually wore when cooking. “An apron?”

“No, I mean-” Tommy stepped in close and Buck’s hands automatically drifted down to Tommy’s hips, settling there, warm and familiar, feeling the muscle below shift with each breath. Tommy’s hands came up and Buck leaned in, ready for those big hands to cradle his face, drag him into a kiss. Maybe this was some pick-up line from a movie Buck didn’t know and, honestly, he didn’t care as long as he got kisses out of it.

But Tommy didn’t kiss him. Instead, his fingers traced along Buck’s throat, sending goosebumps down his arms and spine, and that’s when Buck remembered.

“Oh! Right. I, uh, washed your flight suit? This was in the pocket and I didn’t want to forget where I put it-”

He fumbled the silver chain out from under the collar of his shirt, the tag dangling from it still skin-warm. Scrunching his chin down to look at the embossed letters, he wondered if they’d left their mirror-image mark on his skin, wondered if he’d been temporarily branded with Kinard, Thomas somewhere on his chest. He was tempted to check. “So, you’re O positive, huh?” he said instead, deciding that was probably a little less weird.

“Yep,” Tommy said, popping the ‘p’. He tapped the metal tag. “And now you know my Social Security number, too.”

“And that you’re, uh-” he angled the tag. “NO PREF? What's that?”

“No religious preference.”

“Why? I get blood type, but...”

“Same reason it’s got my name. In case I can’t tell them and arrangements need to be made.”

“Arrangements?” Then it dawned on Buck. Right. Oh. “Like-- Like for a funeral?” Just thinking about it made him want to grab hold of Tommy again and never let go.

“H-hm,” Tommy hummed, apparently not as bothered by the thought as Buck was, and that just wouldn’t do. Buck let the tag fall back against his chest to free up his hands so that he could tangle his fingers into Tommy’s shirt, his sides, pulling him closer. Tommy went easily, squirming just a little when Buck’s fingers traced over his ribs. “Menace,” he chided with a soft little smile.

“That’s me,” Buck grinned. Then glanced down again. “So you wear this when you’re flying? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t really wear it. Never did, honestly.” He frowned a little, thoughtful, and Buck wondered if this was one of those army things he didn’t want to talk about, but he seemed OK for now and Buck would happily take whatever Tommy facts he could get. After a moment of Tommy tracing his thumb over the letters of his name, he continued, “I laced them into my boots most of the time, back then. Don’t want the chain getting caught in anything when you’re doing maintenance.” He said it with a little what can you do?-shrug that felt like an understatement to the gruesome mental images Buck’s mind was helpfully conjuring up for him from a sprawling selection of calls. People got jewelry caught in spectacularly stupid ways sometimes.

“Yeah, makes sense,” Buck said, blinking away the memory of the guy with all the pendants who’d gotten himself stuck in a rotary saw. “And now?”

“I just keep it in my pocket,” Tommy says. “Right where you found it. Though I usually remember to take it out, too.”

“You also usually don’t wash your flight suits at home, so...”

“That’s a great point,” Tommy said, eyes scrunching at the way Buck knew his face was lighting up with the praise. He knew it was kind of stupid, but it was the way Tommy complimented him, like it was the most natural thing in the world, that really did it for him.

Still, a thought nagged at him.

“S-So you have it on you in case you, uh, crash?”

Tommy shrugged again. “No, it’s more of a…” He looked a little embarrassed, all of a sudden, and Buck was immediately intrigued. Tommy didn’t really get embarrassed much. He knew what he liked and what he wanted and if anything, he got defensive instead of embarrassed about his guilty pleasures if he felt like he was being judged. But this didn’t feel like that. Buck desperately wanted to know more. If he could, he'd open up Tommy's brain and examine every last cell of it under a microscope. But he couldn't, at least not in a way that would be at all good for anyone.

“More of a…?” he prompted instead.

Tommy sighed, met his eyes with an exasperated look. “I just figured, I survived the army with it on me, so, I might as well have it on me now.”

Buck grinned, absolutely delighted, and draped his arms over Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him closer still. “Kinard comma Thomas, are you telling me you have a good luck charm?”

“No. Maybe. Fine.” Tommy huffed a laugh and pulled him in by the waist. “What, jealous?”

Buck pulled back a little. “Why would I be jealous?”

Tommy wasted no time closing the distance, said into his ear, “Well, because that would mean you’re not my only good luck charm, Evan.”

Warmth bloomed in his face, across his chest, where the tag was pressed between them now, and Buck laughed.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous. I’d maim its ankles if it had any.”

[rootedinrevisions]

No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished. 

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. 

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine. 

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself. 

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race. 

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.