#finally gets a smile out of it by making fun of himself after working so hard for a year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magicalbats · 15 hours ago

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Stay, Don't Go

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 12,225

Warnings: Afab!reader, childhood friends, reader is on the ace spectrum, injured Childe (nothing crazy, its just a scratch lol) noncon to dubcon, manipulation and coercion for sexual favors, handjob, mutual masturbation

A/N: The next commission is for @scarameowww (I hope that tag worked, for some reason I don't see your icon populating when I type it!) and I had a lot of fun working on this one, it turned out really soft despite how the tags sound xcvkvndkek Please enjoy, everyone!

⭐

You’re standing in the kitchen, fumbling with one of the last few remaining potatoes from your cellar, when the knock comes at the front door.

It’s a tentatively polite sound, as if the person who’d come calling wasn’t sure they’d find you at home or not, but it makes you jump all the same as if they’d pounded at the chipping wood with the full force of their body. The sharp knife in your hand slips with the involuntary muscle spasm and you hiss a small noise when you nick your thumb with the blade.

Trying your best to ignore the sting, you pause there only long enough to watch as blood slowly bubbles up along the nearly invisible slice in your skin, so razor thin you would have otherwise missed it.

Well, that was just great.

You quickly drop the half peeled potato into the waiting pot on the stove and pop your injured thumb in your mouth, turning on your heel just as another knock rap-raps from the front of the house. “Coming!”

Heavy skirts swaying with each step, you hurry out into the hall and make a beeline for the door where you quickly wrench at the series of deadbolts along the frame. It was just you alone in the house while your father was off serving in the Tsaritsa’s army, after all, so the extra precautions made sense. But it was the middle of the day and not likely to be any hooligans up to no good, probably just one of the other girls from the nearby village if you had to guess.

Still sucking gingerly at your wounded finger, you finally get the last lock unlatched and you swing the door open wide to allow in a fresh blast of icy wind. What you find waiting for you on the other side nearly bowls you over on the spot though and you freeze in place.

Everything else around you seems to fade away to nothing, like you’re standing in the middle of some immaterial void as you look up at the face of the young man standing before you with nothing short of dumbstruck disbelief. You couldn’t believe it.

“Ajax? Is it … it’s really you, isn’t it?”

The coppery headed brunette sends you a playful if not tight edged smile from the other side of the threshold where he’s leant rather heavily against the side of the cottage. “I certainly hope no one else has been showing up at your doorstep with my face. And really, sucking your thumb? Kochanie, I thought we left that sort of thing behind us at the schoolyard.”

You give a small start at that, belatedly realizing that you were still holding your hand just in front of your face. The little cut hardly mattered in the moment though, and a wide grin quickly spreads across your mouth as you step forward to embrace him.

“Don’t tease me, Ajax. When you knocked I was just … wait, are you alright?”

Now that the shock of his unexpected arrival was starting to wear off you notice how stiffly he seems to be holding himself there on your front step, how his expression looks a bit pinched. A rush of concern comes pouring in to douse some of the happy flutters you’d first felt, and you momentarily forget about hugging him in favor of placing a careful hand on his arm over the bulky white cloak that hangs from his shoulders.

Drawing a terse breath, Ajax drops his chin to look at where you’re touching him and his smile turns somewhat wry. “I’d thought I could hide it a little better than that, at least for a while. Guess I really can’t keep anything from you, huh?”

“What is it? What happened, Ajax? Please tell me.”

“It’s nothing to fly off into hysterics about. I just got a bit too careless, that’s all.” Groaning softly under his breath, so quiet it’s nearly imperceptible, he forces himself to straighten up from his slouch which leaves him all but towering over you at his full height.

You can’t help the mild pang of surprise that curls through you though when you realize just how great the difference seems now, wondering if he’d had another late growth spurt since the last time you’d seen him. It had been a few good months now, maybe even close to a year, but …

“You’re injured?”

“Only a little bit.” He laughs a low, thinly veiled sound of pain, as if it were lingering and insistent rather than fading with time. “Like I said, no need to panic. I was just hoping you might let me stay here until I have enough strength to make the rest of the trek home.”

Your mind flies through a million different possibilities all at once. A hundred different wounds, a dozen weapons that could have caused considerable harm to a warrior as accomplished as him and the laundry list of potential complications that came with any number of them. If something was broken it would have to be properly set or it wouldn’t heal right, and if he’d been punctured or sliced with something it could easily end in a lethal infection if not treated … you were overwhelmed just thinking about it, and terribly out of your depth here.

“Kochanie?”

Feeling suddenly numb, you lift your head at his hedging tone. Far be it that you were a nurse or any kind of competent medic, but you weren’t stupid either. You knew exactly how dangerous it could be if Ajax didn’t get the right care he needed and you weren’t confident in your ability to provide that to him.

“Of course you can stay here. My home is always open, you know that. But you need to be seen by a doctor. Come inside and rest while I go to the village to get the physician. I’ll drag him here by his coattails if I have to.”

Still muttering an endless stream of disoriented, vocalized thoughts under your breath, you duck back inside just within the door to snag your own cloak off of the hook on the wall. You quickly start to step around him, focused solely on your objective as you lift the frayed cape to your shoulders, but he stops you in place with a gloved hand on your elbow.

“Wait.” He insists, emphatic enough that you snap your attention back up at his face again. “Don’t go. That won’t be necessary so just stay here with me. Please. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But … I don’t understand, Ajax. If you’re really wounded there’s not much I can do to help you …”

He gives his head a slow shake as the bottomless blues of his eyes disappear behind dark lashes, squeezed shut against the physical discomfort he was clearly feeling. “That’s not true. You’ll help me plenty just by staying here. The truth is … I don’t want to run the risk of Tuecer or my mother seeing me like this. If you bring someone here and word of this spreads, they might try to come knocking at your door the same way I did. Besides, didn’t you used to like playing nurse? Here’s your chance to finally live out that childhood fantasy of yours.”

“That’s not funny.” You insist, heaving a clipped exhale to make your breath condensate heavily in the air. He was only ribbing you a little bit, teasing you the same way he always did, you knew that well. But you still didn’t appreciate it or his attempt to brush off your concern very much. “Your condition could quickly worsen if you’re not properly treated. This winter's been hard and I don’t have much in the way of supplies even if I did know how to set a bone or stitch a gash but … I get what you mean about your family. You don’t want them to worry, right?”

At his stilted nod, the sincerity in his gaze, you shift your weight from one foot to the other in a clear sign of relent.

“Then I suppose there’s nothing else I can say to that. Are you certain it isn’t serious or life threatening though? I can leave at a moment's notice, all you have to do is give the word.”

“I promise, kochanie. You worry too much sometimes. It’s just a little scratch, that’s all. Even you should be able to handle something like this without a problem.”

Well, that didn’t exactly instill you with overwhelming confidence but if he was certain he didn’t have immediate need for a doctor then you’d just have to do your best and hope for a favorable outcome. Ajax was much too stubborn to make him do something he didn’t want to and you couldn’t exactly force him either when he was already twice your size even though it didn’t seem like all that long ago when you’d been of a same height with each other. Pushing it any further would’ve been the very definition of fighting a losing battle.

“Fine. But if it starts to look like you’re taking a turn for the worse I’ll go running to the village straight away and you don’t get to complain about it. Does that sound fair?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Water drips and splashes in the basin as you wring the rag out, pointedly ignoring the dull ache it causes your cut. There were far more pressing matters that needed your attention right now though, and you listen to the sound of Ajax shifting behind you, groaning a faintly breathy noise while he works to discard his clothes. The wound was on his chest, he’d said, but you weren’t sure what sort of severity to expect. A gory mess or maybe only a minor laceration? It was sometimes hard to tell with him.

Mentally bracing yourself for the worst and praying for the best, you wait until you hear him sink down on the edge of the bed before turning around. You find him slouched back on his braced hands, grimacing slightly as he slowly nudges at one of his boots with the other to get it kicked off. And it’s no wonder what’s causing the discomfort anymore, a sharp intake of air catching inside your throat the moment your eyes fix upon his abdomen.

The injury did indeed start at his chest, he hadn’t been lying about that part. But it extends well past that and down over his stomach, almost straight to the top of his pants where it miraculously missed his bellybutton by a hair’s breadth margin. Ragged and uneven in spots, it looked to you like someone — or something had caught him good with a sword or … perhaps a lance?

You were positively aghast.

“This is what you call a little scratch?”

Leaving his boot halfway off for the moment, he lifts his gaze to send you a lazy, confident grin. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen the other guy. Like I said, I just got a bit careless. But it’ll heal up fast if I can sleep it off for a while. I don’t even think it needs stitches.”

You’re not so sure you’re in agreement with that estimation but you decide to inspect it from a closer angle, picking up the basin to take it with you now that you had a better idea of the situation.

Coming right up to the side of the bed where you can stand between the wide spread of his knees, you lean forward to get a better look. Apprehension makes your heart thud heavily inside your chest but, to your surprise, the cut indeed seemed to be surface level at best. It’s bloody and pink around the edges, raw to denote its freshness, but you can make out no sign of bone, organs or even the subcutaneous fatty layer underneath. He must have lurched back from his attacker just in time to avoid it slicing any deeper than it had.

Mouth settling into a firm line, you sink down to your knees and set the water filled basin next to you on the floor. Then you take the damp cloth in your hand and lean up to dab at the bottom corner of the wound, exceedingly gentle in the way you brush at the drying flakes and clumps of blood, the jagged edges of sliced skin. He still hisses though, tensing at the contact, and you shoot him a quick look.

“Sorry. I’ll try to be careful.”

“It’s alright.” Ajax forces out a thin laugh that does very little to soften his tightly shuttered expression. “There’s no helping it in this case so don’t let that scare you. What matters is that it gets cleaned, right? Just stay focused and I’ll be a nice, cooperative patient for you.”

It feels like there’s a solid lump in your throat threatening to choke you up but you heed his imploring all the same and turn your gaze back towards Ajax’s middle again. Taking your time with it to ensure you don’t accidentally pull at the skin or tear the new scabbing off, you patiently work to remove all the brittle residue of coagulated blood along the gouge and wipe away the clinging red stains on his skin as you go.

You’re quite relieved to find that the longer you spend looking at it the less serious it seems. It had been plenty alarming at first glance yet your earlier evaluation quickly proves correct. It may have been a close call on his part but he’d narrowly avoided being gutted like a fish. Thank the Cryo Archon for that.

“What did this to you?” You finally dare to ask some minutes later.

“Bandits.”

You don’t know if you believe that but you keep that thought to yourself as you gradually reach higher up his torso, stopping every so often to clean and wet the rag. It’s easy to get lost in the rhythm of this task, letting your mind narrow and recede until only the simple objective of cleaning him off remains. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect results of a trained professional but you thought you were doing a pretty good job.

“It seems like it’s been some time since you were last home. Where have you been until now?”

“Mmm. I was in Liyue, by order of the Tsaritsa.” He suddenly sucks in a rough breath when you get a bit too close to the most uneven portion of the wound, right below the center of his chest. Your pulse jumps and you quickly apologize, but Ajax just gives his head a slow shake to accompany the faltering exhale he breathes out. “I’m okay, don’t worry. We were just doing early reconnaissance, by the way. I can tell you wanted to ask.”

None of that comes as a great shock but you smile up at him anyway, warming at the familiar sense of affection that curls through you. He really did know you better than anyone else. Your oldest friend, your …

Shoving that strange thought to the back of your mind, you return to the task laid out before you. There was an undeniable curiosity you harbored to hear all of his stories, his escapades in foreign lands, but you don’t bother asking him for more detail than that, knowing he wouldn’t divulge anything of any real importance.

Instead you settle on, “How was it? Everything the traveling merchants and adventurers say it is?”

“It’s a beautiful nation. In fact, I think I’d like to take you there some day … if you’d be interested.”

A quick laugh slips out of you. “Oh, is that so?”

The moment stretches into silence as you finally reach the top of the injury, idly wondering if he didn’t need a few stitches after all while you clean what looks to be the starting point of his wound. You were a novice at best but to your untrained eye it looked like whatever had attacked him had used a heavy downward swing, likely with the intention of cleaving him clean in half. It was horrible to think about but at least he was still alive.

So caught up in your whirling thoughts, you don’t even realize how expectant the quiet becomes until he abruptly shatters it with one, tersely delivered word.

“Kochanie.”

Stilling, you rove your eyes up towards his face again, a distant note of surprise settling in your stomach when you see how grim and resolute he suddenly looks.

“I’m serious.” He tells you with utmost sincerity. “I’ll take you to Liyue someday so you can see it for yourself. Or Mondstadt or Natlan. The whole world. Wherever you want to go.”

You aren’t quite sure what to say to that, uncertain how to read this new mood, but you offer up another small smile all the same. “That’s sweet of you, Ajax. But I’m perfectly happy right here in Snezhnaya. You don’t need to take me anywhere.”

“But …”

He sounds uncharacteristically hesitant and you tip your head to one side in question. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Did you lose more blood than you thought?”

Ajax barks a quick laugh, and just like that his outward demeanor shifts back to that of the laidback, confident man in the prime of his youth. His grin turns lopsided, almost cocky, as he leans back to brace his hands on the bed again, giving his taut body a long, lean stretch — clearly meant for your benefit.

“You think me delirious or something, kochanie? I’m perfectly in my right mind. I meant every word I said … but we can discuss that later. Are you satisfied?”

It takes you a prolonged beat to figure out he means the work you’ve done on his wound and you numbly drop your gaze back to the slice taken out of him. This easily would’ve been enough to cripple almost any other man, enough to kill the average person, but not Ajax. Still though, you wonder again if he should have it sewn up to ensure it closed and healed properly. Not like he wasn’t already littered with a myriad litany of different battle scars but …

“I think I’ve cleaned it as best I can.” You venture slowly. “Are you certain we shouldn’t have it stitched though? I could always - -“

“No. No stitches. I told you it would heal up just fine as long as I have ample time to rest, didn’t I?” His smile takes on a sharper edge then, turning into something truly sly. “Now do I get a reward for being such a good boy, nurse? You didn’t even have to tell me to stay still so I think that should earn me something in return.”

Quietly scoffing under your breath, you shoot him an unamused look. “What, like a lollipop? Are you still six years old, Ajax?”

“Aw, come on. Kiss it and make it better for me. You know you want to.”

You hardly wanted to do anything of the sort but at the roll of your eyes he merely arches his back with a playful wriggle to better present the flat plane of his stomach to you. The fact doing so clearly tugs at the skin, threatening to reopen the wound that looked like it had only just started to mend and scab over, fills you with a sickening sense of immediate dread.

“Stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Not until you kiss it. Please, nurse, pleeaaase?”

You have half a mind to smack him for being such a spoiled brat even after all these years but you understood too well exactly how stubborn he could be. He really wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and, seeing no other choice, you quickly swoop forward on your knees to place a lightning fast peck to the uninjured side of his stomach.

Ajax’s skin is smooth against your lips, rough hewn the way one would expect a man’s to be but somehow still soft with what you could only imagine were the lingering traces of leftover baby fat. It’s so slight that you’d easily overlooked it until now, and feeling it under your mouth sparks a flutter of nostalgic familiarity in your chest.

Suddenly finding yourself wishing for the childhood you’d spent growing up together, you ease back on your folded legs to peer up at him again.

“Happy?”

“Not quite,” he drawls, mischief twinkling in the bottomless depths of his eyes. “It still hurts a little bit, miss nurse. Can I have another?”

You narrow your eyes in warning, wondering what he thought he was playing at here. But knowing that he was injured and likely just soaking up the attention while he had it, you still relent and lean in again to deliver a quick peck to the side of his abdomen.

Drawing a slow, almost anticipatory breath, Ajax shifts slightly to nudge his hips just off the mattress as if in offering, or perhaps needy supplication. “Another? A little lower this time …”

A dull note of uncertainty curls through your gut as you glance at the top of his pants, trying to pinpoint what he hoped to get out of this. You didn’t understand it in the slightest, having never even entertained the notion of touching him in such a way before now, and yet you still find yourself obediently bending your head close to press your mouth to the vulnerable spot just under his navel …

Where you proceed to blow a loud raspberry against his skin, making Ajax jump as if you’d just sucker punched him.

“H - hey! What gives, you little - -“

“I think that’s more than enough for now.” You intone as you push back and climb to your feet with a prim huff for good measure, dragging your hands down the front of your humble, everyday dress to smooth out any wrinkles. “I’ve given you more than enough allowances for one day, I’d think. Now you need to get some rest.”

Ajax looks positively bewildered by this, sharply watching you bend to retrieve the basin as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. “You’re serious? You intend to leave me, just like that?”

Hesitating halfway through the motion of turning to walk away, you send him a confused look. “Like what? I’ve cleaned your wound for you. Do you need something else?”

A mirthless laugh punches out of him, making his shoulders droop slightly as he drops his chin to his chest as if in defeat. “Unbelievable. You really don’t get it, do you?”

“… get what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He says, groaning ever so softly as he straightens from his restless slouch, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “We can talk about it later if you want. I think I should catch a nap though. I’m not in the best mood right now.”

Thinking that was an understatement given his extremely odd behavior, you start to turn away again. “Alright. Just yell if you need anything. While you’re sleeping I’ll see if I can’t scrounge up the ingredients for a poultice that I can put on your wound when I come to check on you later.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll be here.”

And on that decidedly strange note, you slip out into the hall with the basin hugged to your chest, gently closing the door behind you to a soft click from the inner mechanism. He’d changed a lot over the years since the two of you were kids but this was easily the most confounding development yet.

What a strange guy he was turning into.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s well after dark by the time you step inside the room again, carrying a large bowl of various supplies tucked in the bend of your arm while you hold up a softly swaying, glowing lantern with the other. You’d poked your head in a few times over the last few hours only to find him out like a light and softly snoring where he was sprawled out on his back atop the bed. Much to your chagrin, however, he was still fast asleep even now. But it was getting quite late into the night and although you’d hoped to avoid this you’d finally had no choice but to accept the fact you were just going to have to wake him up.

Hopefully he’d slept off his earlier mood, you think to yourself as you creep across the old floorboards, as silent as you can manage. Stopping next to the bed, you set the lantern down on the little dresser beside it to cast half of Ajax’s slack face in gloomy relief. He looks peaceful and blissfully still for once but his eyelids don’t even so much as twitch against the light.

You stand there and watch him for a prolonged moment, glad to see the even rise and fall of his chest rather than the labored breaths that might have indicated a fever was taking hold. Then you move to step around to the opposite side of the mattress, noting that he’d kicked off his boots at some point when you pass by his bare feet.

Crawling up onto the bed with your bowl, you momentarily set it aside next to your knee before leaning over his prone body to lightly touch his shoulder. Still he does not so much as stir though, so you give him a careful nudge.

“Ajax. Hey, wake up. I want to dress your wound for you.”

It takes another few coaxing jostles at his shoulder but at last a tight grimace spreads across his face, lashes fluttering with growing activity before he finally cracks his eyes open with a groggy, disoriented groan.

“Wha … where’mm I? Oh,” his searching gaze lands on you and he visibly relaxes into the sheets, allowing a sleepy half smile to pull at his mouth. “It’s kochanie. I remember now … I came knocking on your door just like when we were kids.”

“Yes, you did.” You give a solemn nod of agreement. “I’m sorry I had to wake you, but I managed to find enough herbs and dried plants to make a poultice. I’d like to apply it before the wound starts to fester but I didn’t want to startle you if you suddenly felt someone touching your stomach out of the blue.”

The grin that spreads across his face now is obviously mischievous but you can tell he’s still half asleep in the way he slowly lifts his nearest hand to lazily fling it across your lap. “I don’t think I’d mind waking up to you touching me very much. You’ve got a good bedside manner, miss nurse.”

“Well, thanks. And you’re not a bad patient to take care of, I guess.” Other than his curious mood swings that is.

Pointedly ignoring the way he idly twiddles with one of the buttons on the front of your dress, you grab the clean rag out of the bowl next to your knee. You’d already soaked it in distilled water, intending only to dampen the scabbing a little bit so the concoction could better do its job, and you carefully bring it down on his chest.

Using a light touch, you gently blot over the wound where the coagulated blood had started to truly harden and solidify. You’re a bit surprised to find that the wound was already closing up impressively well, and in seemingly record time at that, but he doesn’t keep his mouth shut long enough for you to further evaluate this discovery.

“Did I frighten you earlier, kochanie?”

You give him a quick, sidelong glance before focusing back on the wound again. “As if you even could. You were just being weird, that’s all. But I suppose that isn’t so out of the ordinary for you.”

Ajax snorts a quick laugh. “Something tells me those who I’ve faced on the battlefield would have a much different opinion of me. But I’m glad I didn’t scare you. Sleeping on it definitely helped clear my head.”

That makes you frown slightly. “What are you even talking about? I really don’t understand you sometimes.”

“Hmm. You'd like to know?”

“I think I’d appreciate some sort of explanation.”

Humming a soft sound of acknowledgement, Ajax seems to think it over for the next some odd minutes while you finish wetting his skin and set the rag aside to take up the smaller mortar bowl out of the larger one. Giving its contents a quick stir and a final press with the pestle to make sure everything is ground sufficiently, you start to apply it to the wound in a thin yet thorough layer.

“That stuff reeks.” He grumbles, scrunching up his nose.

“Maybe so, but it was the best I could do to try and keep you from getting an infection since you didn’t want to see a doctor. Just bear with it until I get the bandages on and that should help with the smell.”

You don’t mention that the ‘bandages’ were old sheets you’d ripped up into strips while he was sleeping, having had no choice when you’d discovered that you really were out of even the most basic first aid supplies. Once your father sent this month's meager army wages home you’d make sure to stock up on what you could just in case Ajax decided to make a habit of this.

But he doesn’t complain any further while you work over him and for that you’re quite grateful, not being well practiced enough to do this with a bunch of distractions pulling your attention away. He even stays perfectly still for you when you begin to lay out the shorter strips of cloth over his chest and abdomen, lightly pressing to keep the dressing in place. He just silently watches you the whole time with a particular sort of interest reflected in his eyes.

Finally deeming it sufficient some minutes later, you sit back to admire your handiwork. “There. How does that feel?”

“Awful.”

You give your tongue a bothered click. “Ajax - -“

“Have you ever given yourself to a man before?”

Starting at the abrupt question, you turn a horrified look upon him. “What? What sort of thing is that to ask?”

“A perfectly reasonable thing, in my opinion. After all, we’re in bed together right now and I’m even half undressed already but you don’t seem to care one way or another about any of it. And earlier … you were kneeling at my feet, kochanie, yet you acted like you didn’t understand what I was doing.”

You hesitate at that. “… and what were you doing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He scoffs quietly. “I’m a man, you’re a woman. What do you think I was doing? Surely you’re not that oblivious.”

More confused than ever now, your mind races a mile a minute as you try to make any sense of what he’s saying. At first it just doesn’t click, your lived experiences so far removed from the intimacy of relationships and bedding that most of your peers were all too eager to join in on that it just doesn’t even occur to you as a possibility. But then you abruptly realize what he’s insinuating, what he’d meant by being man and woman, and your face positively blazes.

“Y - you … do you really think of me that way, Ajax?”

“Of course I do.” He says as if that should have been the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him it was. “Why shouldn’t I? You’re beautiful and smart, fierce in your own right. I’ve thought about having you for a long time now and I’ve wanted you for even longer than that. Are you going to reject me, kochanie?”

“Well — no, not necessarily, but - -“

“Then why didn’t you show any interest in me earlier? Why don’t you show any now?”

Your head dizzingly swims. Not only did you have no idea how to answer that when you didn’t even really understand it yourself, but the thought of telling him that you just … simply never had those kinds of thoughts about anyone did not seem to be the kind of response he was looking for here. On the one hand you could be truthful, awkwardly try to explain your perspective on things and likely make an even bigger fool out of yourself than you already have, or you could try to go along with it, for his sake.

Because you did have feelings for Ajax once everything was said and done, just not — those specific ones.

“I’m sorry.” You impulsively blurt before you can think any better of it. “I guess I’m just … easily embarrassed. We’ve known each other for such a long time now, I thought … I didn’t realize - -“

“Do you want me as I want you?” He cuts across, soft yet demanding in his search for a sufficient answer.

Unfortunately you really aren’t sure how to give him that, and you quickly grab for the bowl so you can get up and put some much needed space between the two of you. “L - let’s talk about this later. You still need to rest, and I bet you must be starving by now. I made porridge earlier, I can bring - -“

His hand is suddenly on your elbow, halting you when you’ve only made it halfway through the motion of climbing off the bed, and without any further ado he physically yanks you back into him.

With a startled yelp you fall against his bare shoulder and the bowl of supplies slips from your fingers at some point in the rush, sliding to the rumpled sheets where it’s almost immediately forgotten. Wide eyed and tense, you whip your attention towards his face even as you bring your hands up to push yourself off. But he only grins at you, smirking, for all intents and purposes, and you don’t quite manage to wriggle free quickly enough before he loops his powerful arm across your back to lock you in place.

“Ajax - -“

“Nuh-uh. You’re not leaving until you give me my reward.”

“Wha - … what do you want?”

“A kiss.” He says, dropping his gaze to your lips where it lingers for a prolonged beat before he slowly drags those eyes of deepest ocean back up to yours. “On the mouth this time. Kiss me, kochanie. Please?”

Slowly balling your hands into fists against his chest, you peer into Ajax’s face for a long stretch that seems to bleed into eternity. “I don’t understand what that’s supposed to accomplish.”

“It’ll make me feel better, for starters. You don’t want to see me suffering and in pain do you?”

“… no.”

“Then do it. Come on. Just one little kiss. For me?”

You hesitate to heed his wishes, not exactly repulsed by the thought of putting your mouth on his but just — unenthusiastic about the act. You’d seen plenty of people kiss before and had never felt a stirring or the desire to experience it for yourself, and in truth you hadn’t thought he would be interested in such things either. Maybe that was naive of you though, in retrospect. He was still a man, just as he’d said, and you were still … a woman. So did that mean this was only inevitable? Something you were destined for even if you felt no real yearning for that sort of physical intimacy?

It’s a strange feeling that settles in your gut but, silently reminding yourself that this was for his sake, you cautiously lean down to just brush your lips against his. The sensation doesn’t elicit much of any response at all within your body and you move to pull away, but Ajax is quick to tighten his arm around your back and pin you there.

Whimpering softly when he leans up into you, starting to kiss you with a low, breathy sigh through his nose, you stiffly hold yourself against him while he pecks at your lips in what was clearly meant to be a coaxing manner. It doesn’t work though and you almost feel a little bad about that. Especially when in spite of your inexperience you can still tell that he was far more practiced than you would have ever thought to give him credit for.

It seems like a waste on you, someone who doesn’t even truly want it and therefore can’t appreciate what he’s doing, yet you make no effort to slap him away.

The why of it is a mystery to you but you can tell he’s pleased by your acquiescence in the way he hums a faint sound into your mouth, tilting his head slightly to better work his lips against yours. It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realize what he’s trying to do, to understand that he wanted you to open up and let him in, but you eventually yield to this too, forcing the muscles in your jaw to relax.

Feeling the slackening of your mouth, Ajax wastes no time deepening the kiss and he swipes his tongue out to drag a wet line over the soft seam. That does manage to register as a displeasing sensation, prompting you to finally turn away and disengage from him.

But his hand is suddenly in the back of your hair, fisting it close to the roots to hold you in place. A squawk of protest rises in your throat as you finally give his chest a weak shove but he’s an unbudging force against you, taking the chance you've inadvertently given him to spear his tongue deep inside your mouth. You screw your eyes shut and squirm in place while he takes his time exploring you, flickering over your teeth and your tongue, trying to ignore just how unappealing this really is in your mind.

You cared for him deeply, perhaps more than anyone else in the world, but this … it was far beyond the pale.

Moments later when he finally draws back of his own accord to look at you with a heavy lidded, almost dreamy expression on his face, you quickly reach up to wipe the spit from your mouth. He watches you do it with a growing smile, barking a sharp laugh at the way your nose wrinkles in distaste.

“What, you didn’t like it? You were fidgeting an awful lot for me to believe that.”

You don’t know how to tell him that it hadn’t been a positive response so you don’t bother, simply settling on, “I didn’t realize you were going to be so messy about it.”

“Well, can you really blame me for that?” Dropping his tone down to a rather seductive drawl, Ajax casually readjusts his hand to curl around the nape of your neck in a clearly possessive gesture. “Just look at you, kochanie. You’re so sweet and plump, like a ripe cherry turnip waiting to be plucked and eaten at the kitchen table. I could make an entire meal out of you, y’know. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that I always clean my plate.”

You can’t help the way you reel back from him as far as his hand will allow, completely disarmed by what he was saying. “You’ve turned into a fiend! What have they been teaching you at the palace? If your mother ever heard the way you’re speaking - -“

“And she won’t hear of it. Ever. I’m serious, you’d better not go tattling on me like we’re still on the playground.”

The sharpness in his tone, that demand for compliance, cuts through your apprehension like a knife through warm butter, and you just look at him — really look at him for a long, drawn out moment.

And it hits you all at once that he was right. Neither of you were children anymore and you couldn’t keep treating this situation like nothing at all had changed over the long years. You’d been a fool to still look at him the same way you did when the two of you were seven, nine, twelve or even sixteen years old. He was a man now, well and truly, and in hindsight you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ever overlooked that fact.

Because you can see it clearly in his jawline, the shape of his face, and the muscular definition across his chest. His biceps and tight abdominals, very likely what had saved him from being eviscerated. There was still room for him to grow and fill out some more, of course, and you didn’t doubt that he would as he continued to train and grow stronger. But there would be no denying that the Ajax in front of you was no longer the same boy you’d grown up with. You weren’t exactly strangers to each other, yet …

“Fine. I won’t say anything. Can you let me go now? I’d like to go to bed at some point.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. I don’t think I’m quite finished with you yet.” He murmurs, back to smiling and perfectly at ease again. “I’ve waited so long to have you to myself, kochanie … and my wound still hurts so badly. Think you can help me out a little more?”

You very nearly tell him no, certain more than ever that you didn’t want to keep playing this game with him, but despite all of your misgivings, no matter how much you didn’t care for any of it, you still feel compelled to give in and bend to his will. He was your oldest friend, after all. You didn’t want to see him suffering or in pain, and you certainly didn’t want him to think you no longer cared for him either.

It seemed you really had no choice in the matter.

“What do you want? Another kiss?”

“That would be nice.” Pausing, he meaningfully flicks his gaze towards your chest. “And maybe you could let me see those gorgeous tits of yours?”

Equal amounts fluster and shock creep up your neck, and you impulsively swat at his shoulder with a quick hand. “Don’t call them that! You’re so vulgar now!”

Chuckling a breathy sound, clearly unperturbed, Ajax lifts his opposite hand to reach for your front where he deftly latches on to the topmost button on your dress to fiddle it open. You suck in a sharp gasp and try to pull back, already slapping at his fingers, but the palm around your neck stops you from making it very far. Despite your halfhearted protests he easily manages to get the first one undone and he reaches for the second even as you anxiously grab at the material to hold it closed. No one had seen you naked since you were a child, not since you first entered puberty and your body started to morph right before your very eyes, and you’d always assumed that would never change.

It seemed unnatural in your mind to be looked at in a state so vulnerable and bare, especially when it was Ajax who was doing the looking, but your attempts to fight him off are cursory at best. He seems to realize this, sensing that your heart just wasn’t in it, because he keeps unbuttoning your dress until the front of it is hanging open almost straight down to your waist.

Eagerly, he slips that groping, searching hand inside to slide it across your ribcage where he can squeeze at plushy love handles. Feeling overwhelmed and far removed from your comfort zone, you merely whimper a frazzled little sound when he tugs you closer, bringing your chest nearer to his face. Reaching up, you press against his temple to halt him, further mussing the fringe of hair that was already disheveled from sleep, but he merely brings his hand up to grab your wrist and tug it away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss at the center of your chest. “Don’t be like that. You want to help me, don’t you?”

“I … I do, but …”

Groaning a heated sound against your skin, Ajax nuzzles into the swell of your breasts, not unlike a babe seeking warmth and comfort, as he uses his hold on you to direct your hand lower. You realize what he’s doing at the last moment and try to pull away but it’s no use. His grip is as good as iron, and there’s nothing you can do about it when he presses your fingers into the front of his pants. The sensation of something firm, hot and seeking, makes your stomach lurch with renewed apprehension.

“Wait! I can’t - -“

“Relax. I’m not going to rush into this when you obviously have no idea what you’re doing and I’m not exactly in the best shape to do all the work right now either.” Pausing, he turns his head to nip at the meat of one breast, teeth sinking into the bountiful flesh for but a moment before quickly replacing them with a soothing kiss. “But I wasn’t exaggerating or lying when I said this would help me feel better. All that adrenaline, the rush of a good fight … I don’t think you understand what it does to a man. And then to come here seeking shelter only to see you looking so damn soft and inviting on your doorstep. I don’t just want you, I need you, kochanie.”

He groans a rough, rumbling sound of anticipation then, his excitement mounting quickly as he adjusts the position of his hand to clasp it over yours. Manually, he closes your fingers around him through the material of his slacks to make you grip it and you respond with a stilted gasp. You’d never felt anything like it before, had never thought to know what touching a man there would be like, but he appears a bit too pleased by your touch for you to tell him off.

Mistaking your silent acquiescence for something it’s not, he quickly releases you in favor of reaching up to fumble with his belt. You watch him work it open with a sense of detachment, as if you weren’t fully in your own body at the moment. Of course you understood on some level where this was going, what he was aiming for, and yet you have no idea how to get out of it now that it’s already escalated this far.

All you can do is swallow around the rock wedged in your throat when he stiffly shifts atop the bed to make the old springs creak, hooking a blunt thumb into the waistband of his underwear as he lifts his hips. A quick tug and a shimmy pulls his clothes far enough down his narrow thighs for him to then reach inside and pull himself out.

And you just stare at it when it pops up into the air, all galvanized steel and sinfully smooth flesh, the unmarred perfection of it interrupted only by the occasional vein you can make out just under the skin. You’re not sure if you should be impressed or intimidated by it but he snags at your lax fingers, grabbing them again before you can decide.

“Like this.” He murmurs, guiding your hand around his cock and making you grip it, the sensation of skin on skin startling you slightly.

Firmly, he drags your hold up along the length of him to make the foreskin at the tip briefly bunch before pulling down to the starting point at the base once again. The glide of his fist over yours is so sure and confident that you quickly pick up on what he wants you to do, thinking if it was just massaging him like this then you could probably handle that much. This didn’t seem so bad, all things considered.

Clearly sensing your reluctant acceptance, Ajax carefully removes his hand from yours, letting it hover over your knuckles for a brief moment while you awkwardly fumble through another series of tugs at his length, completely on your own this time. The motion of your hand is not nearly as practiced as his had been but he still hums a low sound of approval before sliding his fingers lower, dipping between his legs to gently squeeze at himself.

You try not to look at it too hard though, silently praying for him to finish fast so you can put this whole thing behind you and be done with it. The only thought that gives you any amount of comfort in that moment is that at least he seemed to be enjoying himself. His breathing shallows out and deepens, his hips lazily flexing up into the grip of your fist, and you don’t try to stop it when he brings his hand up to impatiently yank at the front of your dress again.

Closing your eyes, you try to focus on the rhythm you’ve settled into while he paws at your breast through the thin slip underneath. It’s the only thing still standing in the way but all it takes is a good pull at the soft cotton and your heavy tit spills out right in front of his face with a muted bounce.

The harried noise you whimper is promptly swallowed up and lost under the masculine groan he gives in response, the sound mirrored in the heavy twitch of his cock. You have but a split second to think maybe you will try to put a stop to this after all, unsure if you could really go through with it, and then his long fingers are sinking into the meat of your breast to lift and give it a fascinated jostle.

“Look at you, kochanie. When did you grow such beautiful tits, huh? I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these from me this entire time.”

“Please, Ajax … stop talking.”

He snickers a quiet laugh at that, offering your breast a tight squeeze to make the nipple puff up as if — as if he were trying to encourage milk to squirt out of you.

“Why should I? You’ve clearly never heard it from anyone else so you should at least hear it from me. You’ve got the body of a fertility goddess. Looking like this, it’s a wonder you don’t have all those spineless men and boys from the village banging down your door to get at you everyday. Have you been saving yourself for me by any chance?”

“N - no …”

“Ooh, that hurts my feelings, you know. But it’s okay. You can be honest with me. There’s no room left for secrets between us, is there?” Adjusting his hand to cup around the underside of your breast, he leans in close to tauntingly flick his tongue over the pebbled peak. Back and forth, back and forth for a prolonged moment to ensure it was nice and stiff before at last sealing his mouth around the areola and suckling.

You pull in a harsh, seething hiss, struggling to keep your hand moving on his cock but it’s hard. It’s so very hard when you were torn between natural aversion to what he was doing to you and somber resignation of your fate. Especially when, glancing down at him through the heavy fall of your lashes, you find that rather than any feeling of high strung arousal he only reminds you of a nursing babe latched to your breast like this. There are no curling notes of desire, no heat, no excitement on your part. Only a sense of obligation that isn’t entirely comfortable but one you understand to be a necessary evil. If this was what was needed to care for him as a man then …

“Does that — feel good?” You warble hesitantly, and he releases you teat with a dull pop to tip his head back, groaning up at the ceiling.

“Yesss. You’re doing such a good job, kochanie … you can tighten your fingers, if you want. Don’t worry about hurting me. You won’t, trust me.”

Gathering your resolve, you heed his advice and close your fist around him more firmly, pumping him with the full force of your arm now even when it makes the muscles start to ache in protest. You just wanted to end this quickly, to see to his needs and then go back to your normal life where you didn’t have to think about or do such things.

And the effort seems to pay off, for his hips give a sensitive little lurch under your ministrations and he moans a heady sound, giving a full bodied twitch at the vigorous stimulation. His head lolling almost drunkenly on the pillow, Ajax peers up at you with a distant, hazy look in his eyes while his hand continues to idly fondle your breast, as if he just couldn’t help himself.

You take his abrupt silence as a good sign though, relentlessly working him over until his breathing soon becomes labored and harsh. His flat stomach expands and contracts rather dramatically now as he tips his locked pelvis up into your hand, shuddering faintly with what you sorely hoped were warning tremors. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of the injury across his abdomen anymore, but you don’t want him overexerting himself and risk reopening the miraculously stitched wound, so you persist even when your arm starts to feel like it might fall off.

“Oohn! Kochanie, I’m - -“ He suddenly blurts, back bowing dramatically against the bed when he jolts as if you’d given him a good zap of static electricity.

For a split second it almost alarms you and you’re not sure what’s happening — but then you feel his cock give a violent spasm in your hand and you watch, completely mystified, as it erupts in a sudden spray of white. That milky jet arcs up into the air where gravity quickly forces it back down to splatter harmlessly across the bandages plastered over the center of his body. Another healthy glob quickly follows, landing just short of the first, and his length aggressively pulses with the last of his spend as it bubbles out of the center slit to slowly ooze down the shaft.

Quickly withdrawing your hand before that sticky mess can touch you, you turn your attention to Ajax’s flushed face, noting that he still seemed to be reeling from the rush of his release. Deciding to take advantage of this opportunity while he was still trying to recover, you duck and slip out from under his arm. The fact he lets you do it comes as a great relief and you rush to stand up from the bed before he can stop you again.

Damn him.

“Wait. Don’t go.”

Fumbling to get your dress buttoned up again, you glance over your shoulder at him. “I have to. I need to wash my hands, for starters, and you still need to get some more rest. You should be satisfied with this, right? I … I gave you what you wanted.”

You certainly hoped he wasn’t going to ask any more of you than that but, to your surprise, he merely gives a slow, satiated stretch across the bed, looking for all the world like a pampered feline. A large, dangerously powerful one, but as harmless as a kitten when his appetite was sated. He doesn’t even seem to feel any shame about his nudity or his now flaccid cock where it was resting along his belly, spent. The exact opposite of you, in fact, and you can’t help bristling slightly at the way he grins up at you as if all was right in the world and nothing was amiss.

“And you did such a good job, kochanie. Thank you. I don’t feel quite so on edge now, I should be able to get some much better sleep this time. But I still want you to stay, even if we don’t do anything else tonight.”

“I don’t see why.” You huff, letting some of your displeasure show. “You’ve already gotten what you wanted from me.”

Ajax tsk’s very softly, pushing halfway up on one elbow to level you with a mildly bothered frown. “You make it sound like I was only using you for my own ends. I’d be happy to return the favor if that’s what you want.”

“As if I even would!” Hissing, you snatch the bowl of supplies from the bed and make a beeline for the door.

He tries to stop you, of course, calling out again for you to wait, but you don’t pause long enough to listen to anything else he might have to say. You can’t. Not when it felt like he’d just thrown a wrench in everything you thought you’d ever known about him and your relationship with each other, the once comfortable dynamic you’d shared. How were you possibly supposed to go back to normal and look him in the face as if nothing at all had transpired between the two of you this night? You really didn’t know. You weren’t even sure if it was feasible to hope for it at this point.

But you were willing to sit on it, let the situation blow over and settle in the back of your mind so both of you could move on from this and return to what you were used to. You just hoped he was willing to do the same.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The chirping of early morning birds is what awakens you from the restless half slumber you’d finally drifted off to after tossing and turning for what had felt like hours. You hadn’t gotten much rest at all, you’re immediately cognizant of this fact before you even open your eyes, but a new day was already starting. Time truly waited for no one and you’d soon have to get up. Aside from everything else that had to be done around the cottage, you needed to check on Ajax to make sure you hadn’t waited too long to apply the poultice and an infection wasn’t moldering the wound but …

This thought only fills you with sinking uncertainty, and you grumpily turn over to put your back to the window in your bedroom so you can snuggle down into the warm sheets again. You had half a mind to forsake him, leave the idiot to his own devices for the day so you could sleep in and recover from that frankly harrowing experience the night before.

But in shifting around you're abruptly made aware of the fact that you were not alone. At first it only registers as a distant suggestion of another’s presence there with you in your bed and then you feel the dull warmth of body heat, noticeable in the Snezhnayan chill.

Panic grips you in an instant and your eyes fly open, suddenly wide awake as you give a startled little jerk. Your vision positively swims with the immediate rush of sensory input that hits you all at once, the surge of adrenaline that slams into you like a solid brick, but a muscle chorded arm wraps around you to stop you from going very far.

There’s no question who it is yet you still gape up at him in disbelief as you furiously blink the remaining sleep from your eyes.

“Ajax! What are you doing in here?” You demand, pressing your balled up hands into his chest and shoving.

He’s just as unbudgable as he’d been last night though and he merely smiles down at you in casual greeting. As if this was the most normal thing for him to be doing, as if he belonged in your bed and he hadn’t selfishly invaded it for his own bullheaded desires. You weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry at the blatant audacity.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, kochanie. Don’t look so mad! I only wanted to make it up to you for last night, that’s all. Just relax.”

Tense and halting, you warily peer up into his face. “Make what up to me? How?”

Shrugging a broad shoulder — still bare, you can’t help but notice — he offers the soft love handles on your side a reassuring squeeze, making you whimper at the sensation of how easy it is for him to grab at you. His hands were so big …

“It seemed to me that you were under the impression I only wanted to take, not give anything in return. That wasn’t fair of me, was it? I want you to feel good too.”

“You can’t.” You insist, fighting the urge to start squirming. Massaging him to completion was one thing. It had been easy to remain a distant bystander, watching yourself go through the motions from somewhere else, but to be on the receiving end would rob you of even that much.

“I can.” He shoots right back, as stubborn as ever and effortlessly matching your intensity tit for tat.

You draw a sharp breath to snap at him with but the words catch in your throat when he somewhat aggressively nudges his pelvis into you, poking at your hip with the unmistakable jab of another erection. Eyes going round as saucers, you blurt a disbelieving sound in his face.

“You want to go again?” You gasp, trying to wrap your head around how he even had the energy for another round so soon after the first. It just didn’t make sense to you. You’d thought that would have been more than enough to tide him over for a good while, not a mere few hours.

Ajax merely cocks a brow at you though, as if you were the one with the problem here and not him. “I’m not sure if you’re underestimating me or if you really just don’t understand how men are, but of course I want to. You’re so lovely, kochanie, and I want you all to myself. Every time I look at you, these gorgeous curves,”

His hand on your back drops down to curl over your ass, squeezing you through the flimsy material of your nightgown to make you squeak a harried sound.

“I can’t help but want to sink myself inside you as far as I can go. Do you even have any idea how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about you? How hard you make me even when I’m hundreds of miles away and I couldn’t touch you like this even if I wanted to?”

“A - Ajax …”

“You said you wouldn’t reject me.” He goes on, insistent and demanding in the way he grabs at your body to gather you tightly against him.

The strength in just his arm alone is absolute and there's nothing you can do to stop him from pressing you into his body, forcing your softer frame to mould to the hard contours of his front. This strikes you as exceedingly odd though, given the state he’d been in yesterday when he first appeared at your door, and your reeling mind disarmingly stumbles over this revelation. There should have been no way he could have naturally healed up that quickly from such a wound, even if it was not near as bad as it could have been. He’d barely been able to stand up straight without groaning in pain but then how —

“Touch me, kochanie.” He murmurs, snapping you out of it with that heated, low growl of wanting. “Just like last time. Please. Put your hand on me, stroke me. Make me cum for you again, moja miłość. I’ll show you how, as many times as you need, okay?”

Ignoring the faint whimper that slips out of you, Ajax presses his forehead to yours in an affectionate nuzzle, those bottomless eyes intently locked on you from only a hair’s breadth away. You think to fight it, desperately wanting your space and your peace of mind back, but just like with everything else you find yourself reluctantly giving in. Simply to placate or to earnestly please him, you’re not sure which.

Yet you still hesitantly slip your hand under the haphazardly twisted blanket, fingers skirting down his chest and over the smooth expanse of makeshift bandages. You don’t even have to search for it when you can clearly feel his cock digging into your hip, and you wrap that hot, pulsing girth in a loose fist, eyebrows lifting when you find him completely nude. He must have crawled into your bed naked, the shameless fiend.

He hums a quiet sound of appreciation though, sounding lazy and indulgent in your ear as he hooks his broad hand around the pudge of your thigh, pulling it forward to drape over his waist. The motion spreads your legs apart, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless, and you mewl an overwhelmed noise when he reaches back around to dip his fingers into that warm space. You’re still not quite sure how he's managed to remain so keen and eager despite having already done this once before, but as always you just can’t seem to tell him no.

And when he touches you, carefully feeling along the slit in your body, you screw your eyes shut against the sensation. Those rough, battle worn callouses drag at delicate skin as he threads them through the coarse hair padding your cunt, undeterred, until he reaches the starting point at the top of your mound.

Gently, almost uncharacteristically so, he starts to rub you there, moving the flats of his fingers in a small half circle, coaxing the nerves to respond to him. You’re more than just a bit horrified when it works and a dull thrum comes to life between your thighs, tingling warmly in response to his ministrations. It frightens you, as alarming as it is unexpected, and you halfheartedly try to pull away from him with a small squeak.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, kochanie.” He consolingly coos at you, tipping his head to give your nose, your cheek a series of fleetingly brief kisses. “I’ve got you. Don’t be scared. Just copy what I’m doing, alright? I’m not going to hurt you.”

You give a full bodied shudder, tucking in close to bury your face in his neck and hide from him. And he allows it rather than pushing you or demanding more, docking his chin against the crown of your head with another low murmur of reassurance.

As the seconds tick by in this manner, with the two of you tangled up and twisted together in your bed so thoroughly you start to forget where one of you stops and the other begins, you find that this, this intimate closeness with him, is not so bad after all. In fact, you rather liked it. The smell of him was deeply familiar to you and it swarms your senses now, drowning out everything else, and his intense body heat an old comfort. It almost reminds you of when you were children, the best of friends sharing a blanket together in front of the fire at his home. You wanted this, craved it more than anything else, you think, but the touching …

Perhaps this was just a necessary tradeoff for that happiness, an inevitability that came with your individual lots in life. And maybe someday you could even come to like doing these sorts of things with him, even if today was not that day.

Because his fingers are sure and confident where they continue to caress over that frustratingly receptive bundle of nerves and you can feel your body slowly coming around to it even if your mind still wasn’t quite in agreement. It could feel good if you let it and if it made Ajax happy to do these things then you wanted to make him feel good too.

So you shyly curl your hand to cup around the tip of his cock where you can follow his lead, lightly rubbing him the same way he rubs you. Your motions are unsure and faltering at first, but at his breathy sound of approval you gradually start to find some of your confidence. The head of him must be sensitive then, you think, just like your cunt.

“That’s good,” he whispers to you, warm breath ghosting over the hair on the top of your head. “Do you feel that sticky stuff? Smear it over me, like this.”

Showing you what he wants, he slides his hand higher up your labia until he can press in slightly on your entrance. A curling note of surprise flashes through your mind when his fingers come back slick, drawing that faint wetness out of you to spread it across your plump lips. You’re not sure what to make of it, what to think, but you mimic him anyway, drawing your palm over his length to leave that clinging gossamer consistency on his skin.

You distantly recognize it for what it is, the physical manifestation of his excitement for you, and you wonder idly at your own response to what he’s doing. In truth you still didn’t feel particularly eager to have him in this manner and yet …

The proof is oozing out of you, slicking your cunt completely against your will. A part of you finds it hard to believe he’s really just that talented with his fingers when you very much doubted anyone else could have netted the same results even if you’d given them an entire day to work at it.

It must just be him then, you decide, and the closeness you'd always shared. That’s the only explanation — and you suck in a stilted breath when he lays his fingers flat over your seam, reaching almost front to back with the length of his hand as he settles in to rub you with long, drawn out strokes now.

That fleshy friction makes you feel strangely dizzy but you remembered this from last night, the way he’d manually closed your fist around him and guided you through the motion. It’s a real struggle when you could hardly think straight anymore, but you force yourself to take him in hand again, matching the same pace and rhythm that he’s set for you.

“Oohhn, that’s perfect, kochanie. Just like that. You’re doing so good for me. So soft, so warm …”

Rumbling a masculine sound of ratcheting arousal, he shifts against you to work his other arm underneath your body. It almost manages to startle you, having not realized he’d been able to keep one hand to himself this entire time which was so unlike him, in retrospect, but you don’t even pretend to fight it when he pulls you up to lay half on top of him with your breasts pressed to his chest.

You try to redistribute your weight though, worried about hurting his wound, but he keeps you firmly locked in place no matter how you try to adjust yourself. Going still with a mild click of your tongue, you peer into his face, reminding yourself to keep tugging at his cock in the tight space between your bodies. You were slowly becoming more accustomed to the gesture although your arm quickly begins to ache again, but it was decidedly well worth it getting to see him like this.

He looked pleasure struck and almost intoxicated, his expression pinched with arousal, and yet he still finds the wherewithal to grin up at you when he catches your attention on him.

“What? Did you think you were too heavy for me?”

“You’re injured.” You mutter, embarrassed, but he only shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hurt me. I told you that last night, didn’t I? You’d better not forget … I’m not some simple farm boy from the country. I can handle you just fine.”

Unfortunately you weren’t yet sure if you could handle him, but you were willing to learn as you fumbled your way through this confounding situation together. As long as he was happy then you could be happy too. Probably. It was worth a shot, at least, and you slowly lower your face to his, hovering just above his parted lips.

You weren’t certain if you wanted to take that plunge on your own just yet though, so you merely look into his eyes instead. So pretty for as unusual as they were. “Just tell me if you change your mind and I’ll get off. You don’t have to push yourself for my sake.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he says, grinning a devious smile when he pinches you tight. “You’re staying right here with me and I’m not going anywhere either so you’d better get comfortable. You know I have a lot of lost time to make up for and plenty to teach you too.”

That earns him a roll of your eyes and a tired huff. Somehow you got the feeling that the two of you were going to end up spending most of the day in this bed but, strangely enough, that didn’t sound so terrible anymore. You could live with it, at least.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #childe tartaglia ajax #childe x reader #self insert bullshit

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leafyeyes417 · 2 months ago

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Delivery

Danny really didn’t like the bowing and formality of being the Ghost King. Yes he had a lot of power but as long as you were decent he didn’t feel the need to exercise it. So Danny decided to disguise himself. His choice, a messenger.

He used to have only two forms, his human side and ghost side. Now he has four. A Royal form and his messenger form. His normal ghost form could now could be considered his comfy form, which he uses when he’s just hanging as friends.

Anyway what started the whole messenger thing was when he found out there was an entire room full of paperwork just relating to one guy. Like good for him in his Soul Evasion but not for the poor Ghost King. So he decided to return to sender.

Once in disguise (Thank you minor shapeshifting), he used a portal to get to the guys vicinity. Which happened to be in the middle of a Justice League meeting. Great. Okay Danny you got the bored look down, just do your supposed job.

“I’m looking for a…” he checks a clipboard he pulled out of nowhere. “John Constantine.”

He hears a curse to his left and glances over. Yep that’s the guy. Someone asks, “Why are you looking for him?”

Danny smiles blandly. “I need to deliver a package. It is quite large though so I will need a…” He glances at the clipboard again. “12 by 24 by 30 foot room to place it in.”

Constantine blinks confused. “But I didn’t order anything? Especially not from one of your kind.”

Danny nodded. “Yes this is a late return order I’m afraid. We finally got through some of the back log.”

Perturbed Constantine agreed and Danny was led to a place in the Watchtower after getting a signature for confirmation of delivery. Checking that the measurements were correct, Danny opened the portal and with a whomp the piles of paperwork landed in the room. Impressively none of the towers of paper toppled over, only swaying a little.

The heroes that had followed out of curiosity gaped. Constantine sputtered out a, “What the ‘ell is all this?!”

Danny gave a toothy smile. “This? This is all paperwork tied to you. The Ghost King decided that if you wanted to create so much paperwork then you can be the one to fill it out.” Ripping open another portal Danny waved and said his goodbyes. “Well my job is done. Bye!”

Once back in his keep he couldn’t keep himself from breaking out into laughter. It was so worth it to play messenger boy for that.

Later (not really a connected scene but had to share):

Danny floated into one of the Demon Princes receiving rooms. Constantine had gone through some of the paperwork and he needed to deliver the finished copies. Turns out being a messenger gave him a lot of wiggle room in going to new locations.

As Ghost King he would need to ask permission, get a bunch of gifts, etc etc. Messengers just needed a ‘hey I’m neutral and temporarily entering your territory’ and as long as Danny stayed out of restricted areas he had basically free rein.

Upon getting the sigil of confirmation from the Demon Prince he handed him the papers. The Demon frowned as he started reading and then snarled. “What is this?! That human’s soul was mine so why do I suddenly not have full claim?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m just the messenger but at a guess, the guy took advantage of the fact the bureaucracy was back logged and got some more deals. Heard the Ghost King is having him work through his own paperwork as punishment for making so much.”

Snarling and grumbling, the Demon shooed him away. He smirked. It was fun to see everyone react upon receiving bad news.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #john constantine #ghost king danny #Danny decided he wasn’t filling out a room full of paperwork for one guy #Constantine spends months on that paperwork what with all the other things that pop out of the woodwork #He couldn’t just ignore it either. He tried once and nearly suffocated when it buried him literally.#Danny ‘cursed’ the paperwork to follow him if he ignores it too long #The ones who John sold his soul too are not happy when they find out they share his soul upon delivery of finished papers #Danny enjoys every angry expression since these guys are not in his good graces #Taking a soul in a deal means paperwork since the soul will no longer go to their afterlife #Danny later sets up an agency to deal with it but for now he vents through proxy

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classyrbf · 4 months ago

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classmate!gojo part 3!

classmate!gojo who has been watching you from afar for the past week now. His eyes are always gravitating towards you in class, trying to catch any other possible connection. He’s try so hard to convince himself that you’re not his mystery girl, but at this point he should just accept it. The photo of your nails was proof enough, not to mention how much of a rush you were in. Neither of you have texted or exchanged photos since then, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t driving him crazy. Every single day since then he can’t get you off of his mind, getting so hard from the thought of you that he has to sneak away to rub one out to your pictures or videos. He just can’t help himself.

He watches you in class, in the cafe area, even sees you walking on campus, doing normal things. He would have never guessed in a million years you were the one he sought after so badly. You hide it so well. But he knows deep down under that good girl persona you have, there’s a slut waiting to caught, waiting to be fucked and used like you told him all those times over text. He’ll make you break. He sees you sitting on a bench on campus just scrolling through your phone, knowing this is the perfect time to execute his plan.

He finally breaks contact, sending you a video he took of himself last night.

gojo: i miss you

it was simple, but he was hoping it’d work. He watches intently, a small smile spreading across your face, though he’s unsure if it’s because of him

gojo: send me something, yeah? miss seeing you, baby

and like clock work, he sees you get up, heading towards the bathrooms inside one of the campus buildings. What else to do but follow. He sees you slip into the bathroom, and now he finally has you where he wants you.

you enter the bathroom, riddled with excitement that he finally texted you. Maybe he didn’t catch on that you were the one sending him photos. Good, it means you can have more fun. You enter the stall, replaying the video of him jerking off, putting the phone close to your ear so you can his moans. You smile, your hands finding themselves under your skirt, rubbing your clit through your clothed pussy. Little do you know he’s standing right outside the door, waiting for you.

You unbutton your shirt and grab onto your tits, massaging them in your hand while you send him a video. Quickly, you send him another of your wet panties, still rubbing your clit.

you: missed you too. can you tell?

and gojo can’t believe it when he receives the videos, chuckling to himself at how slutty you can be. He saves the videos nonetheless and puts his phone back in his pocket, the bathroom door opening, you walking out, completely caught off guard. Your heart thumps against your chest, mouth hanging open like you want to say something but nothing is coming out. All you know is that you can’t stop staring at him. He’s smirking at you, eyeing like a piece of candy as he moves closer towards you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “I know you’re little secret.” You’re frozen, unable to do a thing. You couldn’t even deny it at this point. “Give em to me,” he demands.

“W-what?” You blink, voice barely above a whisper. He moves back, a smug smile on his stupidly pretty face. God, he smells so good. And his whispering? You’re even more wet than before. He knows what he’s doing to you.

“Your cute little panties. Give them to me.” He’s so casual about it and makes you even more nervous yet more intrigued. You turn to go back into the bathroom but he grabs your arm. “No, no, no. Do it right here.”

“But—” you look around to see if anyone else is around.

“What? Scared of getting caught? Sure weren’t thinking about that when you sent me all these videos and pictures. So, hand them over.” He watches as you slightly bend over, reaching under your skirt and gently pulling your panties down, letting them fall to your ankles. You sheepishly pick them up, they’re coated in your slick, an embarrassing sight. He grabs them from you, chuckling at the wet stain. “Wasn’t so hard, right?” He shoves them into his back pocket.You shake your head no, unable to keep eye contact with him. All the confidence you had over text has completely disappeared in the presence of him. What were you even thinking? He’s Gojo Satoru. “Thank you for these, baby.” He steps closer towards you, cornering you against the wall. “Send me something else later on tonight. Oh, and make sure to stop hiding that pretty face of yours too, okay? I wanna see everything.” He grabs your chin, tilting it up so you were looking at him.

“Why don’t you just fuck me already? We’ve both been waiting long enough,” you abruptly ask. It was taking everything in you not to drop on your knees and let him fuck your face.

“I can fuck you right here if I wanted to. You know how’ve riled up you’ve gotten me for all these weeks? I get so hard thinking about you that it hurts. I can’t fucking cum if it doesn’t involve you. You’ve taken over my mind, made me go on this chase to figure out who you were. So, if I wanna make you wait a little more, then I’ll fucking do it.” He gritted his teeth, gripping your chin slightly tighter. “Remember, only good girls get rewarded.” He smirked, pulling away from you before walking out of the building like nothing happened.

previous part

#—☆classyrbf #jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo smut drabble #gojo satoru smut drabble #jjk smut drabble #jjk x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo

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stvrkeysgal · 5 months ago

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casual enough? — rafe cameron

— what happens behind closed doors after rafe sees you hanging out with a different boy? with no exclusivity, what you had with rafe cameron was an absolute blur. until tonight.

warnings: smut! (piv, rafe does it ROUGHHHH) squirting, swearing, "slut" mention

you knew better than to mess with rafe. you were well aware of his jealous tendencies, anger issues, and how he acts when you so as much look at another guy when he's around.

but he's been testing your patience way too much for your liking as of the moment.

he had one arm wrapped around a blonde, smiling at what she said but clearly wasn't interested in what she was saying. you knew rafe—you had him wrapped around your finger, but the idea of him actually hanging around with a different girl (when he himself doesn't want you doing the same) had you seething mad.

so here you were, skin-to-skin against jj motherfucking maybank. his hands on your waist and your hips swaying to the beat of the music that traveled across the whole bar. you laugh at what jj says, and all that could rafe do is watch as you had fun with someone—someone that wasn't him.

rafe and you were nothing exclusive, that he always made sure of. but he could feel that deal slowly slipping away each time he sees you with anyone else. it was getting hard for him to ignore the pang in his chest every time the idea of you getting with someone crosses his mind.

tonight was no different.

rafe did his best to keep his cool, ignore the way you were pressed against jj's body, the two of you so close that your ass grinded against his fucking crotch every time your hips so much as swayed. rafe could see that clearly, and it was killing him.

the final straw, though, was when jj's hand snaked from your waist to your chest and then to your neck. he held you there for a few seconds, which had you turning back to him with a smirk. the original plan was to make rafe jealous, see how much it takes until he finally cracks. you decided to go along with jj since you knew how much the two despised each other. and judging by the way rafe's eyes bounced back from you and jj, a scowl present on his face, you knew the plan was working.

though, what you didn't expect was for rafe to walk towards you and jj, the blonde girl previously in his arms now forgotten. "i need to talk to you, right now." rafe says, standing in front of you and jj. you smirked instead, dancing once again. "sorry, cameron. i'm clearly busy here."

rafe scoffs then pulls you away from jj rather harshly, which had you glaring at him. "not a fucking fan of repeating myself, baby. either you come with me or i fuck you in front of everyone—including your boy right here." rafe had you pressed against him, his lips against your ear as he whispered.

he had you so speechless, that you just blinked at him slowly. your heart thumps against your chest rapidly, which has you sweating underneath his gaze. you look back at jj, but he already understands what you meant. he just winks at you before walking away with a smirk.

rafe seems to be satisfied by that, which brought him to grip your arm a little bit tighter. "if you know what's best for maybank, you're coming home with me."

✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

"please, rafe. just give me a second." you were choking on your spit at this point, as rafe fucked you to the point of overstimulation. his hips slapped against the back of your thigh rather harshly, the skin already turning red due to his movements.

"you just don't want to admit it, but you know you love this dick too much to get me to fucking stop." rafe had your face buried in his pillows as he fucked you mercilessly from behind. he was proven right when you clench around his length, his words running through your mind.

"and i was right. got so fucking tight the moment i said that. you love this, don't you, baby?" you were a gasping, moaning mess underneath rafe. and all you could do was take his harsh thrusts.

your eyes rolled back, tears spilled from them as he kept the same pace while he fucked you through yet another orgasm. his thumb was hooked into the side of your mouth, the action keeping your head in place as he kept on thrusting into you.

you could only moan pathetically in response, eyes rolling back into your head while his cock practically tore you in half. rafe wasn't quite pleased though—he wanted to hear you talk, not moan. "i asked you a goddamn question, didn't i?" a spank landed on your ass then, which earned him a mewl instead. "you better fucking answer when i talk to you," he leans down then, mouth leveled with your ear as he spoke. "just a simple yes, slut. that's all i'm asking."

your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as you fought the urge to make a mess and squirt all over the sheets. but rafe had other plans. he flipped you over so you laid on your back, your eyes immediately meeting his. "fuck, yes! i love it, rafe. i love it so much." you managed to breathe out in between sighs and gasps, which had him smirking. "that's about right."

he could feel you clenching around his length once more, which he hissed softly. "shit, you gonna cum again? that's three times in a row, baby." his fingers moved to your clit then, rubbing the sensitive bud in fast, and hard circles. "come on, cum for me. wanna see you make a mess all over this dick."

after three particular thrusts, you gushed all over rafe's length, making a mess on the sheets and his stomach. "that's it, baby," he leans down until he was in level with your neck, in which he kissed and sucked slowly. "love it when you squirt all over me."

you could tell rafe was close, judging by the way his hips seemed to lose rhythm by the minute. "gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. gonna fill this pussy up." rafe fucks you through another orgasm, his mouth latched onto your neck while he did so.

what you don't expect are the words that come out of his mouth next. "don't want anyone having you like this, you get that? i'm fucking yours. i was always yours." rafe says through gritted teeth, while you stared at him with wide and teary eyes.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum." rafe finishes inside you after he says it, and he pulls away to watch him drip out of you slowly.

"in case it's not clear yet, i fucking love you so much. seeing you with jj like that killed me earlier. i want you all for myself, baby." rafe lays beside you, chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath.

"i love you too, rafe. you're it for me."

first actual rafe smut i wrote??? holy shit

drew / rafe's masterlist

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x you #rafe cameron fic #obx x reader

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nightingale-prompts · 9 months ago

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Beautiful Ghost-DC x DP prompt

Part of the Accidental Ghost Courting AU 》 HERE

We finally get Tim's perspective on Danny

If there is one thing everyone on campus knows it's that Danny Nightingale is hot. Not in the stereotypical supermodel or Hollywood way. He was so attractive it was scary like he dropped out of a fairy tale.

Tim first saw Danny after whispers started going around. He spotted Danny in the library walking towards the observatory on the top floor.

At first glance, you'd call him a goth and there was no shortage of people who'd love to date one. It's probably why no one shuts up about him. But Tim could tell this wasn't the corporate punk type goth that he saw Damian scrolling through on his phone. Tim was quick to tease Damian and stop what would inevitably become a phase.

No, Danny had a clear style. Classic gothic...but also not. It's hard to explain. His clothes looked handmade, straight out of the 1800s. Did he thrift or make them himself? He was an astronomy major right? Or was is engineering?

Danny looked almost ethereal. Tall, lean, and almost glowing skin. It wasn't until later that Tim would be close enough to see the way his skin sort of glittered in low light.

People parted to not obstruct Danny's path as he went toward the observatory.

Everyone knew that Danny was off limits, too cowardly to get the courage to ask him out and risk rejection. So Danny remained unreachable.

Tim paid it no mind. He acknowledged that Danny was good-looking but there wasn't much else that got his attention. Danny didn't pay attention to others.

But Tim couldn't help but notice that Danny was always alone in his own little world. There was a hint of longing in him. Tim might have overheard a few things.

Danny would usually be in the library reading eclectic materials, playing with tarot cards, and studying star charts. Other days he was in the greenhouse tending to a little corner of plants he was growing. He seemed bored. He looked like he'd rather be somewhere else.

Tim might have done some research. Just scrolling through Danny's social media. Pictures of friends and graveyards. Most of the landscape photos were taken after his arrival in Gotham. Tim gathered that Danny was alone out here and far from home. He could fit in easily around here but simply chose not to.

It wasn't until that faithful day when Danny offered him a bundle of red carnations and a cup of Death Wish coffee.

"You looked like you need this." He said smiling.

And wow...that smile. Tim didn't think he'd ever see a smile like that. It was a sort of lopsided smile, a bit clumsy but sweet. Danny had elongated canines. Were they fake or was it a medical condition?

Tim didn't know how to respond to Danny's offer but he wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee.

Over the next few weeks, Tim found himself on campus more often and hanging around Danny. Danny tended to be very generous. Always gave things to Tim, most of which he made himself. That is what made it all feel genuine. On cold days Danny always had a hot cup of coffee or tea. When it was sunny he had something sweet freshly baked. When it rained he had flowers to brighten the room. When it was foggy he wanted to go find something fun to do. Danny also worked at the flower shop nearby which was said to be haunted by the old owners.

Rumors spread more and more that Danny wasn't human, like some kind of fae that took human form. Was there a chance it was true? Yes. Does that mean that Tim was going to test that?

Yes.

So Tim just wanted to test that theory and gave Danny a bracelet that looked similar to the ones he usually had. It just so happened to be made of Iron. Tim felt bad about it (kinda) but it was just genuine curiosity.

But no Danny wasn't a fae. He was incredibly happy to get a gift though so no harm done.

Another thing Tim noticed was Danny's eyes. They weren't blue like he thought. Danny had central heterochromia. He had a ring of bright green near his iris surrounded by icy blue. Not that Tim was staring at his eyes or anything, just that no one ever mentions that part when describing Danny. It's pretty notable you know. More people should know that.

...

.....

It's normal to think that.

Anyways Tim and Danny meet up when they can. Danny likes visiting graveyards and abandoned churches. Not that he doesn't like the movies or arcades because he loves that stuff. But one time after a late class he dragged Tim with him on a scenic drive out of the city to this spot he found. It was this massive cliff just far enough from the city that you could see the stars.

Tim never really gave much thought to the stars. He's seen them thousands of times especially being carried around by Kon or on the Watchtower. But right then watching Danny fiddle with his telescope babbling on about the planets and far-off galaxies, the stars felt new and wondrous.

Was this what it felt like to be normal? Just a college kid going on a spontaneous road trip with a friend, not thinking about patrols or duties.

He liked it.

Danny had a way of making him forget about the rest of the world. Someone not linked to heroes and assassins. A friend, a weird one but one he didn't have to be Robin with. He was just Tim to Danny. Not Tim Wayne, not Tim Drake, just Tim.

Because of that, he wanted to keep Danny as far from his family as possible. They already think they were dating and he'd be damned if they scared Danny away. This didn't stop them from investigating Danny and that brat wont stop spouting his opinion.

"I don't know what he sees in you. Aside from appearance, there isn't much to like." Damian grumbled.

"He must be really vain then because Tim doesn't deserve this kid." Jason responded.

"But if he even thinks about hurting Drake-"

"Yeah, we bury him."

Tim has chosen to ignore everything they say.

The last issue is Phantom.

Tim doesn't like Phantom.

The spirit had been hanging around Gotham for a while now. He lingered around the corners of the city and if he felt like it he'd interfere. In his own words, Phantom said that he dealt with the dead, not the living. Tim did some research and it's said Phantom showed up near the dying or dead as a sort of shepherd to souls. He made the transition easier for them.

So when Phantom was seem lingering around Danny he couldn't accept it. He'd be damned if he let some spooky bastard take Danny. He can't have him.

So Tim decided to invite Danny to stay with him for a few days. But a few day became a week became two weeks. Don't judge. This was just so Tim could look out for Phantom and prevent Danny from dying. It hasn't been working so far since Phantom hasn't been seen nearby.

But Tim did run into him.

"Why are you stalking Danny Nightingale?" Tim damanded.

Phantom circled overhead his spectral tail curling. His translucent body phasing in and out of the visible light spectrum.

"Stalking? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't care about chasing the living. But let's say Nightingale is an exception. He's special. But what does he have to do with you?" Phantom eyes Tim suspiciously before diving down floated inches away from Tim face. "Hmmm, I always did think you were the cutest Robin. I was right. Too bad I've got my eyes on someone else now."

And like that he dissappeared.

Now Tim was even more anxious. Phantom was definitely after Danny most likely dead or alive. If something happened to Danny he didn't know what he'd do. Its not safe out there with Phantom hanging around.

Danny was still awake when Tim returned home. He was watching some detective drama he had refused to watch with Tim because he kept guessing the plot during the first few minutes. Which was fair.

"You were out late again. Would it kill you to get some sleep now and then?" Danny sighed stretching.

Tim wanted to say "Actually I think it would. Lets not test it" and banter like always. Maybe even relax and let Danny talk about where show was on.

But Tim couldn't. Not when everything felt so surreal. Danny was just oblivious to the dangerous spirit trying to take his soul and Tim couldn't protect him.

Tim couldn't believe he was thinking this but what if Danny wanted to be with Phantom? Then what?

Tim knew that his emotions were his greatest weakness. When he did control them he does a lot of self-destructive things and he ends up hurting people especially when he's hurt.

He hugged Danny, burying his face in his shoulder.

"Danny can you promise me...that you'll stay here." He didn't care if Danny wanted to be with Phantom just as long as he doesn't leave this world and stop being his light.

The thought of not seeing Danny every day killed him. No more nagging him to eat and drink. No more star gazing. No more TV marathons. No more being dragged to spontaneous trips to the crafts stores. No more hearing the insane conversations with his friends. No more waking up on the couch with a pair of blue-green eyes looking up at him. No more Danny.

Tim felt like his heart was stopping and his stomach dropped.

Danny hugged him back putting a soothing hand on the back of Tim's neck. It was cool to the touch.

"Of course, I'll stay." Danny laughed as if the very notion he'd leave was ridiculous.

Tim's brain seemed to twist in on itself as the cascade of emotions overflowed. That laugh seemed to play over and over in his head echoing non-stop. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Dread, uncertainty, hope, and affection all blended.

Oh no..

Tim was in love.

(This got way too long. I'm not really good a romance as you can tell but I'm trying. Anyway this is a Danny fell first but Tim fell harder situation.)

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #tim x danny #red robin #tim drake #dead tired #brain dead #braindead #deadtired

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captainpriceslilwife · 2 months ago

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Thinking about Gaz trying to hit on insecure!reader at the bar, but he's oblivious to the fact that she's self-conscious until he starts talking to her. And for the first time in his life, he gets turned down...and he's never been more attracted to anyone in his life.

Maybe you were all on your own bc your friends abandoned you, or maybe you showed up on your own in an attempt to be flirted with. But once you got there you felt too insecure to look anyone in the eye, so you've kept your gaze locked on your drink since you arrived.

Maybe Gaz sees you - a pretty bird - all on your own and looking sad. It doesn't even cross his mind that you could be insecure, after all, you're gorgous. But you've never seen yourself that way.

So when he finally works up the courage and gets a bit of encouragement from his team, he slinks up next to you and turns on the charm, like he always does with women.

But it doesn't work out like he planned.

There's no blushing smiles and bashful giggles coming from you. Only a blank, surprised stare and tensed muscles. You even look around like you think he's talking to someone else.

I mean, he couldn't possibly be hitting on you, right? It must be some kind of joke, or prank, or...something. Someone that handsome would not be interested in someone like you. And your concerns are only confirmed when he glances over his shoulder and gets a thumbs-up and a wide, toothy grin from some idiot with a mohawk.

He thinks maybe he's just making you nervous, but when you flinch when he calls you 'beautiful', he knows he's done something wrong. He just doesn't know what.

Of course, it's not his fault. He doesn't know how many times you've been asked out as a joke...or a prank...or a dare. Nobody's ever made a genuine effort to be with you. And he's struck a chord in you hard enough to make you have to swallow against the lump forming in your throat.

"You think it's funny to go up to random girls and make fun of them?" Your trembling voice speaks up as you cling to your drink, trying to seem tough even as the tears build in your eyes.

"Make fun-?" He doesn't even get to finish voicing his confusion before you're standing up, staring down at his brown, puppy-dog eyes with the firmest glare you can muster despite your tears.

"You might be this...this handsome guy, but that doesn't mean you can be mean!" You stutter out as you gather up your purse clumsily, like you're desperate to get away from him...which you are...even if he is the hottest man who has ever talked to you.

"Love, I wasn't making fun of you-" He desperately tries to salvage the situation as he watches in horror as your tears begin to roll down your cheeks, but you quickly snap back. "Oh, save it! You...you asshole!" You seem to hesitate for a moment before you grip your drink tightly and splash it into his face, but he can tell by the immediate guilt lacing your features that you regret your choice.

Before either of you can say anything else, you gather your purse and practically sprint to the exit. But in your hurry, you don't realize you've left behind your wallet - which Gaz picks up once he's broken himself out of the shock you've left him in.

He returns to his table - slightly dazed and dripping with strawberry daquiri as he stares down at your I.D., completely lost in thought as he studies the small picture of your face smiling sweetly at the camera. It looks nothing like the gorgeous woman he saw sitting at the bar - you looked...different, on your license. Not ugly, per se, but you were certainly more awkward when that picture was taken. You just hadn't come into yourself quite yet, and he can already picture how people must've been treating you when you looked like that. And it finally clicks for him.

You genuinely thought he was just teasing you, like you've probably always been teased. But this time, you had enough confidence in yourself to at least tell him to fuck off, even if you did it with tears in your eyes.

Ghost's voice breaks through the barrier first, with a gruff "fuck was tha' about?"

"Aye, what'd ye say to tha poor lass?" Soap's concern quickly follows, his head craning to look out the window as he watches you scurry down the dark street with tears in your eyes. "Couldnae be good from tha' look on her bonnie face."

Their words barely register in Gaz's mind, especially when he's too focused on the way his heart is pounding against his ribs as he tears his eyes away from your picture. "I think I just met the love of my life."

"What?"

[part 1, part 2, part 3]

#captainpriceslilwife #guys what is this #cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick imagine #gaz x reader #insecure!reader #gaz x insecure!reader

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pink-petal-horns · 2 months ago

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Dumb & Poetic

Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

You always liked the loud ones.

The guys who knew how to work a room, throw a wink, rattle a bottlecap on the table with a cocky laugh. You’d fall for them fast, just as fast as they’d forget to call you back.

There was something about their edges, the way they caught the light like shiny things you knew better than to touch, but always did anyway.

And then—Bob.

Not flashy. Not loud. Not even remotely interested in taking up space he didn’t earn.

Which, in your history of “types,” meant you almost missed him entirely.

—

You met him in the bar one night, the kind of night when the Navy pilots swarm Hard Deck like it’s their own little arena. Jake Seresin—Hangman—was holding court at the pool table, Phoenix was tossing darts with deadly aim, and Bob?

He was sitting in the corner. Reading. Reading, in a bar where everyone was busy being a headline.

You had a drink in your hand and a headache from someone else’s charm. So when you noticed the quiet guy with the soft eyes and crooked smile trying to make himself smaller in a crowd that prized the biggest personalities, something in you tugged.

“What are you reading?” you asked, easing into the chair beside him.

Bob blinked like he hadn’t expected anyone to approach him—definitely not you, in a leather jacket and lip gloss and the remnants of someone else’s kiss still cooling on your neck.

“Just, uh, Dandelion Wine,” he said, showing you the cover. “Ray Bradbury.”

You tilted your head. “You read that for fun?”

He gave you a sheepish shrug. “It’s kind of… dumb and poetic, I guess.”

You laughed. It was the first real laugh you’d had in a while.

—

You didn’t mean to fall for Bob Floyd.

But he had this way of making you feel seen—not watched, like the other guys, but understood.

He asked questions and actually waited for your answers. He remembered little things, like how you hated cold drinks without straws and how your favorite song made you cry in a good way.

He didn’t flirt in the traditional sense. He didn’t make you dizzy. He made you safe.

You weren’t used to safe. You were used to boys who recited lyrics and sonnets with the same sincerity they used to pick up the bartender two nights later.

But Bob?

Bob didn’t need metaphors.

—

It was three months in when you finally cracked.

You were sitting on the hood of his car, the stars out, the air between you easy and warm. He’d just driven you back from a beach bonfire, and you still had sand in your hair and sun on your cheeks.

“I don’t get you,” you said.

Bob blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just—” you huffed. “You don’t try to be anything. You’re not pretending. You don’t even flirt right.”

He chuckled, then turned his head to face you. “And that’s a problem?”

“No, it’s just…” You bit your lip. “You’re not like the guys I usually go for.”

Bob’s eyes didn’t flicker. “Guess I should take that as a compliment or a warning.”

You looked at him, really looked. He had this steadiness to him. A kindness that wasn’t performative.

“You should take it as both,” you whispered.

He nodded once. “Okay.”

That was the thing about Bob. No dramatics. No fireworks. Just quiet understanding.

You leaned your head on his shoulder and wondered if he had any idea what he was doing to you.

—

You started to fall hard.

Not because he bought you flowers or shouted love songs from balconies. But because he held your hand like it was something sacred.

Because he showed up. Every time.

Because when you cried after a bad day, he didn’t try to fix it with a joke or a kiss. He just sat with you. Quiet. Present.

Bob Floyd never made you feel like you had to perform to be loved.

And God, you were so used to performing.

—

It was your birthday when it happened.

The bar was packed. Everyone was there. The guys were drinking, dancing, yelling over each other. You were in the middle of it, spinning in a dress that someone else once told you was “too much.”

Bob walked in a little late, glasses slightly fogged, holding a cupcake instead of a gift.

He looked awkward and adorable and entirely out of place in the chaos.

But when you saw him, you stopped spinning.

You walked straight over to him, heart thudding.

“You came,” you said.

He held up the cupcake. “I didn’t know what to get you. But you said once you loved funfetti. This one’s got rainbow sprinkles.”

You blinked back something suspiciously close to tears.

“It’s dumb and poetic,” you said softly.

He smiled. “You like dumb and poetic.”

You pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Right there, in the middle of the noise and the neon and the glitter of a life you were finally willing to leave behind.

—

It wasn’t always perfect.

You still had a sharp tongue. You still craved drama some nights. You picked fights when you felt too seen, too safe, too loved.

But Bob never raised his voice. Never threw your chaos back at you like a weapon.

He just waited. Anchored.

And one day, you looked at him across your messy kitchen table—his hair sticking up, wearing that NASA t-shirt you stole three weeks ago—and you thought, this is the kind of love that writes poetry in action, not words.

—

You used to fall for the ones who made you feel like fireworks.

Now?

You’d take Bob Floyd every time.

The one who never needed to be loud to be important.

The one who brought you cupcakes and calm.

The one who sat beside you, even when you didn’t make sense.

The dumb and poetic one.

Yours.

Always.

#bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #robert floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x you #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman fanfic #Slow burn love #dumb and poetic #Sabrina carpenter inspired #tumblr fanfiction #quiet love #soft boys #lewis pullman #Spotify

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botanicsoul · 3 months ago

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Rainfall and Ruin

Izuku Midoriya x fem! Reader

this is straight filth

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

You’d been poking the bear all damn day.

Not just for fun—but to finally see what he was hiding.

The thing was…you were dating. You’d been dating for a while now. He kissed you sweetly, held your hand, dry humped you with desperate little whines—but he never went any further. He always stopped himself. Always shook his head, cheeks blazing, voice soft and nervous. He worshipped you, always asked before going any further. And yeah—it was cute.

At first. But now?

Now, it was maddening.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he’d told you once, after a particularly heated makeout that ended with him biting his lip and pulling away. “I don’t… I don’t fully know my own strength. What if I lose control?”panting, cheeks flushed as he grinned against you until both of you were trembling. “I get so… worked up. I don’t know if I could stop.”

God, and you loved him for it. You remembered smiling up at him, brushing sweaty hair from his face. “Then don’t stop.”

you saw the way his hands shook when they rested on your hips. How his jaw clenched when you moaned into a kiss. You knew he wanted to go further. He just wouldn’t let himself. Every time. He never let himself lose control or be rough with you.

You wanted to test him. So today? You wanted to see how far he could be pushed. And damn, he made it too easy.

——

The way he always turned red every time you called him “Zuku.” How his breath hitched when your hand brushed low on his stomach. How his eyes would flicker nervously away when you leaned over to grab your pen, your skirt riding up just enough to make his throat go dry. You’d let out soft moans around him when you’d stretch a little in your seat, just so he could hear. It was like you had him on a string, and each movement you made tugged him closer to the edge.

During your study session later, you decided to take it even further, to really test just how far you could push him without him breaking. The room was nearly empty, the only sound the soft rustle of paper and the scratch of pens. You skipped over to him, a playful smile curling on your lips as you took your seat just a little too close.

“Tell me, Zuku,” you breathed softly against his neck, your lips grazing his skin. You felt him freeze, his body going rigid as your breath tickled his ear. “Do you think about me when you’re alone?” you whispered, “what do you do when you think about me?” your voice soft and teasing.

You could see the way his grip tightened on the textbook, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steady his breath, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t hide it anymore. You could tell by the way his eyes darted to the side.

You leaned in closer, your body brushing against his as you let your words linger. “I know what you do,” you purred, practically tasting the way he was unraveling under your attention.

You saw his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every breath. It was almost cute, how badly he was trying to hold it together. Almost. But you weren’t done yet.

“Zukuuuu…” You dragged the name out, rolling it on your tongue like it was a secret. “wanna know what I do when I think of you?” You slid your hand down his arm, deliberately slow, and when your fingers brushed the edge of his hand, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kept your palm pressed against his, letting the heat of your touch seep into his skin. “Maybe i’ll have to show you” He was trying to be good. But you were done playing sweet.

So when you asked him to walk you to your dorm after that long study session, all soft smiles and batting lashes, you had every intention of testing that tight grip he kept on himself.

You hooked your arm around his, holding onto him like you needed his warmth, and he let you. Quiet and sweet like always.

But when you got to your door, you turned around, tugged him a little closer, fingers just barely grazing the waistband of his pants.

“Thanks for walking me, Izuku,” you said, voice low and sweet, fingers brushing just below his waistband. You leaned in, your lips grazing his jaw. “You’re always so good to me.”

That’s when you saw it. Not the flustered smile. Not the blush. His eyes.

Dark. Focused. Hungry

You tilted your head, trying one last poke. “Goodnight, Izuku.” You turned toward the door. But before your hand could touch the knob, his slammed into the wood above your head, caging you in.

You gasped, spinning around, heart jumping. His eyes weren’t flustered anymore. They were blazing.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice low—dangerous. “You’ve been teasing me all damn day. And now you’re gonna act like I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Your lips parted, breath catching. “I didn’t mean—”

His hand grabbed your chin, tilting your face up. “You did,” he growled. “You said goodnight like you didn’t spend the whole day trying to see how far you could push me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your cheek.

“You wanted my attention, baby? You’ve got it.”

Before you could react, his thigh slid between yours, pressing up hard, forcing your legs apart. You gasped and instinctively tried to close them, but he held you there—pinned and squirming. His mouth curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Ooooh, there it is,” he whispered. “You like this. You wanted this.”

He leaned close, lips ghosting over your jaw, hot breath sending chills down your spine.

“You’re not nearly as innocent as you pretend to be” You opened your mouth to throw out another cheeky line—but you didn’t get the chance.

His lips crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue, stealing your breath. There was nothing sweet about it. It was greedy, rough—punishing. Like he was tasting every smirk, every teasing laugh you gave him that day.

You moaned, grabbing at his shirt, desperate for more. He didn’t stop.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. You felt the hardness straining against his pants, pressed perfectly against where you needed it. You whimpered.

He kicked the door open and shoved it shut behind him, never breaking the kiss. Carried you to the bed like you weighed nothing. Then he dropped you onto the mattress and climbed on top of you.

His fingers gripped your hips, hauling you closer, grinding his cock right against your soaked panties through your shorts.

“Feel that?” he rasped, voice dark and gleeful. “I’m hard for you. Have been all damn day.”

You couldn’t even speak—just gasped, clinging to him, your mind spinning from the pressure, the heat, the filthy things he was saying in that shaky, desperate, cocky voice.

“I’ve been so good,” he hissed, voice shaking as his forehead pressed to yours, his breath coming in ragged little pants. “So fucking good for you.”

He ground his hips forward again—harder this time. You cried out, your hands flying up to clutch his shoulders as the thick, heavy heat of him rubbed right against your sweet spot.

His eyes fluttered shut. He bit back a moan.

“Held back every damn time you touched me—every time you climbed in my lap with those pretty eyes, makin’ those little sounds—and I didn’t touch you like I wanted to.”

He dragged his hips against you again, slower this time. Deeper. His voice broke—pleading now.

“Tell me I’ve been good, baby,” he whispered, raw and low, like it was killing him. “Tell me I’ve been good for you.”

You whimpered, nodding, clinging to him like you might fall apart. “You’ve been so good, Zuku—so good, baby—”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes—now blown wide, wild with want—and smiled.

“I want you to ruin me, Zuku.”

He let out the filthiest, neediest sound you’d ever heard, like your words physically wrecked him.

He thrust forward again, harder this time—enough to make you cry out.

He nuzzled against your neck now, lips brushing your skin, his voice lower—more vulnerable.

“Think you’re ready to take me, baby?” he asked, tilting your chin up again. “’Cause when I get inside you—I’m not stopping.”

You gasped his name, dizzy from the friction, from the way he was everywhere.

His eyes swept over you, dark and unreadable.

“Strip,” he said, calm. Too calm.

You blinked, breathless. Your jaw dropped slightly. But your thighs pressed together. You slowly sat up, pulling your shirt off one shoulder, then paused, lips curled in a challenge.

“If you want me naked so bad,” you purred, “you should do something about it, Zuku.”

His eyes flared. He was on you in a second. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head, then dragged your shorts down your thighs in one rough pull, leaving you in your underwear.

“You’re real brave with your clothes on ya know?,” he muttered, kissing down your stomach, teeth scraping lightly at your hip.

“You really gonna fuck me like you’re mad?” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dipped below your waistband.

He leaned up, lips brushing your ear.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve been waiting.” god—you were done for.

His mouth was on you—

Hot, wet, perfect. His tongue moved like he was memorizing every part of you—slow drags, then sharp flicks over your clit that had you gasping, fingers digging into his curls.

“Izukuuu—”

“Say my name again like that,” he murmured, eyes flicking up, glazed and desperate. “Say it while you cum on my tongue.”

And you did. Hard. Arching up, thighs trembling around his head, crying out for him as the pressure snapped and pleasure crashed over you like a wave.

But he didn’t stop. Not even close.

He kept licking, slower now, gentle—like he was soothing you through the high. His hand trailed up your body, calloused fingers brushing your ribs, your breast, until he was hovering over you again.

His cock pressed hard and heavy against your thigh through his sweats.

You sat up as he straightened, taking off his shirt. Now seeing his barea chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, lips parted.

You reached down slowly, eyes locked on his, fingers curling into the waistband of his pants.

He didn’t stop you. Just watched. Watched with dark, hungry eyes, looking up at him like you were about to worship him.

You pulled his pants down, dragging his boxers with them, and—Your breath hitched.

His cock sprang free, flushed and hard, twitching as the cool air hit him. It bobbed once, landing right in front of your face, heavy and aching. You bit your lip, eyes wide with awe and want.

“Tell me again,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked, full of that ache he’d been holding back for so long. “Tell me I’ve been good. Tell me I deserve to fuck you.” His hand came up—not rough this time—just soft. Gentle. He cradled the back of your head like you were the most fragile thing in the world, fingers threading through your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. His thumb brushed just behind your ear.

It was so tender it made your heart stutter.

“You’ve been good, Zuku,” you whispered, voice cracking as your hands fisted in the sheets. “So good to me. You waited. You were patient. You didn’t rush anything.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, eyes fluttering shut like he needed to feel everything. But then, in a snap, that softness twisted into something hotter. Darker.

He grabbed your neck and shoved you flat onto the bed so fast you barely had time to process it. Your back hit the mattress, breath stolen from your lungs, hands grasping at the sheets as he towered over you.

He let out a low groan, hips twitching forward. “Tell me I can.” his grip around your neck let up for you to breathe.

“You can. I want you inside me. Please, Izuku—I need you.” He finally gave in.

One hand braced on your thigh, the other gripping your waist, he sank into you slow at first—inch by inch, letting you feel every stretch, every bit of him until he bottomed out with a guttural sound.

You cried out, back arching, breath knocked from your lungs.

He snapped his hips forward, hard and deep, and you saw stars.

He was relentless now.

Each thrust slammed into you with dizzying force—deep, punishing, perfect. His grip on your waist had tightened, fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Your moans had turned to cries, hands scrambling to hold onto anything—him, the sheets, your sanity.

His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate—like something inside him had snapped completely, like the leash had finally given way.

The bed slammed into the wall over and over again, the headboard banging so loud you could barely hear yourself moan. Each thrust sent a sharp jolt through the frame, until even the bolts started to rattle loose beneath you.

“Izuku—” you gasped, hands scrambling at the sheets. “You’re gonna break the—”

CRACK.

“Baby I- I can’t stop” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not deep enough in you.”

The headboard split with a sharp snap, wood splintering under the force of his grip as he braced himself, hips snapping forward with punishing rhythm.

Your thighs trembled, legs falling open wider just to take him, even as pain bloomed where his hips met yours. You knew you’d be bruised with dark marks between your legs.

“Z-Zuku—!” you gasped, eyes glassy, vision blurred. “Too much—!”

But your legs didn’t close. Your hips didn’t pull away. If anything, they lifted, begging for more.

Because god, it hurt, but it was so good. That line between pleasure and pain blurred until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Your body needed it. Needed him.

“I’m hurting you—” he choked out between thrusts, breath shaking as he slowed just for a second. ��I—I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“You’re not,” you moaned, nails raking down his back. “You feel so fucking good, Izuku. Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop—”

His pace returned, rough and needy, but his hand slid to your face, cupping your cheek—tender, even as he wrecked you.

“You’re everything,” he panted, kissing your lips between thrusts. “You’re—fuck—you take me so well.”

Your body trembled, every nerve on fire, tears prickling in your eyes from the intensity, from how much he gave you—how deeply he wanted you.

And when his fingers found your clit and circled once, twice, just right—

You screamed. Your back arched off the mattress, a strangled scream ripped from your throat, and your whole body snapped.

The orgasm hit you like a wave. Blinding. Overwhelming. Your legs locked around him, hips bucking, hands fisting in his hair.

“ZUKU—!”

Your voice broke, trembling as you sobbed through it, clenching around him so hard his rhythm stuttered.

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, head dropping to your neck. “You’re—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—!”

He was losing it.

You felt it in the way he started to fall apart—his thrusts erratic, his moans louder, deeper, needier. He braced his forehead against yours, eyes screwed shut, muscles shaking with the effort to hold on.

“I’m—baby, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

You cupped his face this time, kissed him through your wrecked smile. “Do it. I want it in me. Izuku—please.”

That was all he needed.

With a strangled cry, he buried himself deep one last time—so deep—and came, hips jerking, body trembling above you as he gasped your name like a prayer. You felt the warmth flood inside you, the way his cock pulsed through every twitch.

Then everything went still.

Just the sound of your heartbeats. Your ragged breathing. His soft whimpers as he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving.

You wrapped your arms around him, threading fingers through his messy curls.

“Hey,” you whispered, still breathless. “You didn’t hurt me- I mean you hurt everything around us.” He lifted his head slowly, green eyes soft again—glassy, concerned. “promise?” You smiled, kissed the tip of his nose. “You were perfect, Zuku.”

A shy grin tugged at his lips, and he melted into you with a shaky laugh, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered. “I want to be the only one who gets you like this.”

“You already are,” he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“I love you”

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valleydolli · 3 months ago

Text

Only You | Chapter One

CW 𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist…

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Two…

𝜗𝜚 WC: 1.5k

Oh…

Who is she?

Sukuna knows faces. He knows everyone’s face. But you? He has never seen you before. How? How could he miss such a beautiful, darling thing like you. You’re perfect. The way you’re holding your book perfect. The way you just crossed your leg across the other? Perfect. He needs to know you. He needs to hold you. He needs you. He needs to get out of his head and go up to you.

You’ve already infested his mind, you're like a parasite, infesting every inch of his body. His brain, his heart, his soul, everything. You’re infecting him. Why? Who are you and What's your deal?

~~~

It’s finally transitioning from the wintertime to springtime. Usually you adore the winter since it’s the season your birthday falls, but spring always has a special place in your heart. the flowers, the freshly cut grass, the shining sun that isn’t too hot. Everything is perfect for you during these months.

It’s a Saturday, and you’ve been meaning to go out and actually enjoy the spring sun. The weekends aren’t long enough for you. There’s so much more you’ve been meaning to do but there’s not enough time, there’s never enough time. Juggling your school work and teaching, you’re exhausted. You need to treat yourself to something, at least a day in the sun, drawing or reading, anything to calm you down from your hectic days.

Maybe a walk in the park will suffice, there’s a book you’ve been meaning to read but of course you haven’t had the time to actually sit down and enjoy it.

~~~

You start to make your way to the park by your apartment complex.

The cool breeze tickling your soft skin as you make your way to the park

When you arrive at the park, you take a seat on a wooden bench that that views the entire park and begin to be invested in nothing but your book.

You suddenly feel the warmth of the sun disappear but you're sure the weather app said clear skies, but it’s not clouds covering the sun it’s a man, a tall, handsome man. He's staring at you intensely, with beautiful salmon pink hair, deep maroon eyes and a birthmark covering the right side of his striking face. You’re in awe.

“Hi there… You’re kind of blocking the sun.” You laugh as you look up at the man before you, and oh how perfect that laugh is, paired with your pearly white teeth. Is there anything about you that isn’t amazing? Maybe you’re an angel sent from heaven, just for Sukuna. No one else but him.

“I'm sorry, I just— what’re you reading? You seem really invested in whatever it is,” he questions.

“Oh, it’s about a couple who can’t seem to get past how obsessive the boyfriend is. I'm not too far along but I'm excited! I'm into obsessive guys, well I think I am. I've never… dated anyone before.”

You’re an over sharer, you just met him and you’re already telling him your type. Are you interested in him too? He should ask you out or is that too forward? No. he can’t let you slip away. ask her.

“You’ve never dated before? no boyfriend, ever?”

You shake your head confirming that no, you’ve never had a boyfriend.

Perfect. Sukuna thinks to himself, you’ve never been touched. You’re not… tainted. Or are you? Have you had your first kiss? You could have slept with a guy for fun. No, you don’t seem like the type. You’re a lover girl, you want to be loved. Oh, Sukuna can give you that, all of that.

Sukuna charmingly smiles at you, “would you like to go out sometime? To a restaurant, a walk in the park, whatever you want, my treat.”

It’s almost as if your eyes sparkle after he asks you.

He’s made you feel this way. He's made you… happy.

You stutter out frantically, “yes! i— sorry. y-yes, i’d love to.”

Why are you stuttering? Is he making you feel nervous?

“Can I get your number?”

You hum in agreement and begin to pull out your phone from your bag. It’s an organised bag everything is right where it needs to be. Is your house organised? Probably. If it’s not he’ll be there to help you out.

You both swap phones, putting in each other's names and numbers.

He has your number.

He has your name.

He snaps out of his trance when he hears you say his name,

“Sukuna…”

Perfect

“I love your name, I've never heard of it before.”

“Not many people would name their kids, Sukuna… that’s why you’ve never heard of it.”

Sukunas parents hated him. I mean he had to have hated him. His name means “two faced” while his twin brother's name means, “kindness,” “benevolence.” They clearly fucking hate him. When he has kids with you, he’ll never treat his kid the way he was treated…

Kids…

With you…

Yeah… twins… two boys— no, two girls. yeah…

“Um Sukuna?” He hears you say. “I need to go, I have some work I need to get done, but text me! obviously. I'm excited to see you again!” You smile, as you stand up from the bench ready to depart.

“I could walk you home? Do you live far?”

“Oh no, I live just over there, the tall complex!”

Oh angel, don't tell strangers where you live… You live… surprisingly close to him actually. The stars are quite frankly aligning. The universe is routing for you two to be together can’t you see?

“That’s funny, I live just round the corner from there. It’s crazy we’ve never crossed paths before.”

Seriously, how the fuck has he never seen you before. Did you just move here?

“No, I’ve lived here for quite a while now,” you answer back.

Did he say that out loud?

“Well I hope I get to see you more often. It’s almost as if you’ve been hiding from me,” Sukuna jokes.

(He’s not joking.)

“No, I’d never! I love meeting new people, I’m just as shocked as you. But we’ve met now, so we can get to know each other more, okay?” You practically sing. You’re so perky and he’s so grumpy, (according to his family and few ‘friends.’) But who wouldn’t be, this world is shit, but with you by his side I’m sure he’d be just a perky and happy as you.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely get to know each other more.”

~~~

The moment Sukuna stepped foot in his apartment he was searching for you. Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Anything. He can’t find you. Why the fuck cant he find you.

Think, Sukuna.

Think!

Does the book your reading have an Instagram page? Maybe you follow them…

Jackpot.

He mutters your name…

Your page is public, you’re 22, a university student and you’re a teacher… a preschool teacher… is that his nephew's preschool?! You're a teacher at Yuji’s Fucking school. The amount of times Jin asked Sukuna to pick him up from school. He could have met you… he could have had you all ready.

Stupid.

He’s so fucking stupid.

Sukuna is frantic at this point. How could he be blindsided by this. How the fuck did you hide in plain site. Right under his nose…

He needs to know more.

Toji.

Call Toji.

Sukuna and Toji are… friends. Well, Toji thinks they’re friends, but Sukuna just sees him as a co-worker he speaks to… regularly…

“Toji,” he practically yells into the phone.

“What?” He mumbles

“I need you to do some research on someone.”

He tells Toji your name

“A girl? What’d she do to you,” Toji inquires with a mouthful of food.

Oh my god

“Toji, she’s done nothing, I just want information on her. Can you do that without bombarding me with fucking questions?”

“Damn, okay, I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Great,” Sukuna mutters as he ends the call.

He continues to stalk your social media, your tagged posted with your friends through the evening, but it’s not enough he needs more, he needs Toji to hurry the fuck up, that’s what he needs right now.

Wait. Jin. He could pick Yuji up from his nursery on Monday.

Jackpot!

Sukuna hears his phone ping. Tojis found information about you already?

No.

It’s you. You messaged him. And here he is smiling to himself like a complete and utter fool, what are you doing to him?

‘Hi, Sukuna, it's me! Girl from the park…’

“Girl from the park…” you’re so precious.

‘Hi Angel, I was going to message you first but you beat me to it’

Obviously you beat him to it. He's been too busy stalking you for the past hours.

‘I’m quite busy during the weekdays with school and work, but I’d love to see you next Saturday, if you’re free? :3’

Oh angel, he’ll make sure he’s free for you, but you’re going to see him way sooner than that.

‘I’m free, I already know where I want to take you.’

‘Oh perfect I can’t wait!’

‘Neither can I’

No, Sukuna would lose it if he had to wait until Saturday to see you again, but lucky for him, he has a cute nephew that happens to be at your place of work.

‘Jin, I’m picking up Yuji from preschool next week.’

𝜗𝜚 Authors Note: so… what’re we thinking chat? i’m pretty proud of this for my not first but new to writing!! i’ve started on chapter two! but hopefully i can keep it up 😔🤞🏾

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Two…

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #yandere sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #modern sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #daddy sukuna

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 months ago

Text

(not) the lady of the house

older!rafe x maid!reader

warnings: smut, MDNI! i got this idea simply from cleaning my apartment, and from the fact that i like to clean... so, naturally, i had to bring it to life. ORIGINALLY POSTED IN SEPTEMBER 2024

when rafe got married, he swore to himself that he wouldn't be like the most men that lived in figure eight, having affairs with multiple women that were ten, or even twenty years younger than him. he swore that he'd stay loyal, that the only woman he'd have eyes for would be his wife.

and he kept to his promise. he pampered his wife, caroline, in any way possible, keeping her satisfied even when he was busy with work. but out of nowhere, she seemed to be coming home later and later, making excuses that she had bumped into a friend and gone for a drink, or that her work-out session had stretched out.

but one morning after one of her "long work-out sessions", his wife was in the shower while she got a notification on her phone, and even though he tried to, rafe couldn't resist the temptation to check what message his wife had gotten. and that was the final nail on the coffin.

"i had fun last night ;)"

it was like the breath had been knocked out of rafe's chest, and even though he put her phone back where he had picked it up from, and tried to forget it, he couldn't. and even as his wife came out of the shower, got ready for the day, and left the house, he didn't move a muscle.

only when an unknown figure appeared at the doorway to the bedroom, a soft "oh!" leaving the person's lips, did he finally pick up his head and look at who had come in.

"i'm sorry, mr. cameron. i thought you were at work..." you said, rubbing the back of your neck. rafe had never met any of the maids that worked for the cameron household, always being at work when they came by. he simply cleared his throat, getting onto his feet with an apologetic look on his face, "i'll get out of your hair." he said with an attempt at a smile.

but when he was passing you, you took hold of his suit jacket, before letting it go with a flurry of apologies, looking down at your feet, mumbling something to yourself before you looked up at him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen, "is everything alright, mr. cameron?"

every day after that, the two of you talked; about your lives, your worries, your dreams, about everything between the heavens and the earth. and after a month of that, you had your first kiss.

now, it had been three months since you two had properly met, rafe thrusting into you as he whispered loving words in your ear as you moaned underneath him, his cock hitting that spot every time he thrust into you.

and when he came in you, he'd press soft little kisses on your neck, nipping at the skin as he mumbled against your skin about how precious you were.

you laid on his chest, your finger trailing up and down his defined chest, your mind filled with thoughts about the man who had just come in you, wondering if you were the only one who felt... whatever it was that you felt when you were with him. you didn't want to call it love, too scared of it, too scared of the thought that maybe he felt the same way.

little did you know, that rafe was thinking the same thing, wondering if you felt the connection between the two of you, or if it was just something he had pictured. and so, in silence, the both of you were wondering the same thing, from two different points of view.

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skzdarlings · 11 months ago

Text

harmony ; 3racha x reader ; one-shot

masterlist.

porn without plot. you want to have some fun and you know exactly which boyfriend can help get it started.

pairing: 3racha/reader content info: sub!reader, dom!changbin, dom!chan, switch!jisung, polyamorous mmfm foursome (so they’re all involved with each other and interact with each other), very enthusiastic consent with an implied red/yellow/green light system (yellow is employed once). some rough play (esp with changbin), cnc game that reader initiates, face-slapping, choking, dirty talk, pussy eating, double penetration, blow job, all three holes at once, multiple orgasms, jisung having a monster dick for no reason, aftercare. (technically no mention of birth control but it’s a long established relationship and you can safely assume it’s taken care of.)

word count: 5255 words.

enjoy <3

When you want to play – really play – you know where to go.

Jisung can be an overthinker and Chan is always protective, so they hesitate before getting too rough with you. Changbin, however, never holds back. You know how to touch him, how to smile that particularly provocative smile, how to bat your eyelashes and invite him to play.

You are thinking about it when he returns from his work-out, muscles straining in his black tank shirt, body damp with sweat, and looking like pure, unadulterated sex. Chan and Jisung are huddled around a laptop in the living room, their entrepreneurial endeavours a seemingly endless chore, and they are so engrossed in their work they don’t see you leave.

You sneak off to your room to change, ditching your shorts and underclothes, slipping into one of Changbin’s old t-shirts and absolutely nothing else.

You intend to hunt him down after his shower, but it’s Changbin who comes to you. He ambles casually into your bedroom without knocking, comfortable and relaxed and at home. You have your own rooms for personal space but you all come and go as you please.

Your room is dimly lit with strings of fairy lights, the bed crowded with pillows and teddy bears, not to mention a big strong boyfriend who makes himself at home. Changbin is dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his hair blow-dried soft and fluffy, but body as bulky and powerful as ever.

“Look at this,” he says, holding out his phone. A sweater you were eyeing has gone on sale so he sits on your bed and buys it for you without hesitation. He giggles to himself with all that self-satisfied delight, teasing that he is the best boyfriend and your number one favourite.

He knows the truest harmony lies among the four of you, together, always, but he likes to tease.

You like to tease back.

“Be careful, you big bully,” you say, because he plops himself down at the head of the bed, knocking a teddy bear over. You pick it up and aggressively shove it back into place.

He quirks an eyebrow, his giggling joviality replaced with a studious expression. He seems to finally notice what you are wearing, blinking his gaze up and down your body as you rearrange the pillows behind him.

You bat your eyelashes, all playful innocence.

“Don’t be so serious,” he says. He deliberately knocks a teddy onto the floor.

You playfully gasp, bending over with a flourish and flashing him.

“Ah,” he says, putting his phone on your bedside table. “It’s like that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, blinking.

“Hm,” he says, giving you another quick once-over. “Okay.”

Changbin hauls you over his shoulder and wrestles you onto the bed. He puts you on your back, upside down so your head is near the foot. He climbs right on top of you, not an inch of muscle budging even when you thud your fists against his firm chest.

“Binnie,” you say, wriggling underneath him, the t-shirt riding up your thighs. “You’re crushing me, you big mean brute.”

“Brute,” he says, laughing. He grabs your hips and pins you to the mattress. “Tsk. You like it like that.”

“No, I – ah!”

Changbin never hesitates. He knows you will tell him if you don’t like something. It’s a game of trust, full of an all encompassing love that boasts such tender affection beneath each action. Being with Changbin is like being nestled in blankets by a warm fire on a snowy winter’s day. You are sheltered in the storm, feeling that protection even more keenly because of the dangerous cold.

Between you, there is nothing but heat.

He gathers the hem of the t-shirt and shoves it up, past the skin of your tummy, exposing your thighs and all the bare softness between them. Oh, yes, all softness against his hard body, the thickness of his biceps as he holds you down, his big thighs shoved between your open legs, broad shoulders relentless and ungiving even where you smack him repeatedly.

“Binnie, be careful,” you say, trying to close your legs around his hips.

You gasp when he puts a hand up your shirt, squeezing your breast in the cup of his palm. His mean fingers immediately find the stiffening peak, thumb tormenting you while you whine.

You buck as if you want to throw him off, but he is right where you want him and he knows it. He knows you, your body like a well-loved instrument, his strong hands drawing every musical gasp and sigh out of you.

“Where’s your panties, hm?” he asks. Undeterred by your continuous bucking and writhing, he slides his hands down to your naked hips. He was slouched half-on top of you but he gets up on his knees now. He pushes your thighs apart, forcing his hips between them.

“Shameful,” he says. He tries to grab your flailing hands to no avail. You smack his chest and shoulders, dodging the reach of his fingers.

He smacks your face, a tap hard enough to register the game has really begun, but not so hard to sting for long. You still gasp, your hands pausing. It gives him time to work a hand between your open thighs.

“Ahh—!”

“Yah, look at you,” he says, rubbing his fingers through your wet pussy without finesse or gentleness. You twitch every time his knuckle rides over your clit. “Bad girl,” he says. “Who are you so wet for?”

He gives you no time to answer, scooting back to drag you to the middle of the bed. You are still upside down, your pillows and teddies piled behind him, all the dreaminess of your girly lace bedroom in contrast to his stark masculinity. It makes your whole body thrum with arousal, hot from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. You feel him even where he is not touching you.

Where he is touching you, you burn, heart erratic with anticipation as he squeezes your thighs, as he shoves your hands out of his way, as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze.

“Ah – Binnie—!” You get louder. Your bedroom door is open. Chan and Jisung might be focussed on their work, but not for long, not if you keep this up. Still, to speed things along, you scream, “Chan! Channie! Ch—hmmph!”

Changbin shoves a pillow in your face, holding it there, smothering you to soften your shrieks. His other hand is on your thigh – no, slipping higher, a surface touch through all that wet desire. Then his blunt fingers are inside you. You moan into the pillow, clenching around the thrust of his fingers. You get dizzy quickly, partially because of the pillow, partially his skilled hand.

He abruptly lifts the pillow. The oxygen goes straight to your head, as intoxicating as a kiss. You realize you are close to coming already, hiccupping with all that sudden breath as he fucks his fingers into you.

Changbin is relentless. You smack his chest but he ignores it, his strong arm keeping a steady momentum. An orgasm builds and builds, your fingers hooking into his t-shirt for some leverage. He puts a hand on your belly and holds you down. He feels so strong and heavy, utterly unmovable, and it makes falling apart so much easier.

“Didn’t you have something to say to Chan?” he says.

You gasp and turn your head. Sure enough, Chan is standing there, watching you. Changbin does it on purpose, knowing when you are close, so you look at Chan just as the orgasm crests.

Chan is standing beside the bed, dressed in his basketball shorts and a sleeveless black shirt, a baseball cap over his curly dark hair. He must have entered the room while the pillow was on your face, and now he is standing there, watching Changbin hold you down and fuck you with his hand.

“Channie, please—” you say, then you come all over Changbin’s fingers. You cry out because he keeps tormenting you, thumb shaking back-and-forth across your throbbing clit. “Ah, Binnie—Channie, please!”

Chan gives Changbin a look, his eyebrow quirked, then he just leans towards the open door and whistles. It’s a sharp, high whistle, a call to attention.

“Han,” he says, not even very loud. Chan never needs to shove or force or yell. When Chan says come, you come.

You always obey Chan. You throw your head back, gasping as you come a second time. It is so soon after the first orgasm that it feels like one long, rolling wave. It continues to shudder through you, even after Changbin slips his hand out.

The shirt is still shoved up your tummy, soft skin and wet pussy on display. Chan does not look away, reaching blindly behind himself for your desk chair. He yanks it closer to the bed and plops down, taking off his cap and tossing it on the floor. He is bare-faced, expression so open and honest, but a hunger in his eyes that darkens his whole face.

Changbin just looks giddy. You look at him as he giggles, that funny little chortle leaving that buff body. Then you realize he is rolling his sweatpants down.

“Channie!” you yelp, shrieking and twisting while Changbin licks his palm and strokes his cock, his other hand effortlessly holding you down.

Chan slouches in the chair. He props an elbow on the arm-rest and puts his chin in his palm. His other hand slips under the waistband of his shorts.

“Careful, baby,” Chan says, seconds before Changbin smacks you again. It is within your limit, but still enough to turn your head on impact.

Like before, it breaks your concentration, and Changbin takes the opportunity to grab your hips, line up, and shove his cock inside you. Chan and Jisung always give you a minute to adjust, the size of a hard cock definitely different from fingers, but Changbin never waits. Even while you wince and complain, he fucks you through it, gripping your hips hard and ignoring your hands pushing against his chest.

“Too much, Binnie,” you say, even though the sting is quickly passing. You’re so wet and it makes it easy for him to fuck you. It even sounds messy, every thrust opening you up, getting you even wetter, the bed creaking as he pulls you onto his cock over and over.

You look over at Chan who is still watching, the shape of his hand and his dick so clear through the material of his shorts as he fists his cock slowly.

You hiccup as Changbin switches from long, deep strokes to short, pounding ones.

At which point Jisung finally walks in, yapping about work, saying, “I was thinking we could postpone the meeting to Monday and—oh, hi, WHAAAT, we’re having sex in here? All right, man, okay, that’s cool, all right, what’s up.”

Oh, your sweet Jisung. He is also in house clothes, black shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, dark hair feathering through his fingers as he runs his hand through it. He walks further into the room, kicking the door closed behind himself for no reason. His attention is firmly fixed on you, holding your gaze while Changbin fucks you. The unmoving intensity of those big brown eyes leaves you tingling, a swoop in your belly that feels as thorough as a good fuck. It crashes into the feeling of Changbin inside you, makes your whole body get tight so Changbin groans and curses.

“Oh,” is all you can say. You cover your face with both hands, gasping when Changbin goes back to longer, deeper thrusts.

“Heyyy, baby, why are you hiding?” Jisung says in his sweetest voice.

You hear him approaching, even above the sound of you getting fucked, above Changbin’s little grunts, above Chan cursing. You feel the dip of the mattress when Jisung climbs up on the bed, sitting near your head. Then his hands are on your wrists, prying them away from your face. You try to wrestle them back but he holds them calmly, his own arms boasting a subtle musculature as he pins your hands to the mattress to stop you from moving.

“Yes,” Changbin says. “Like that. Come on.”

“Jisungie,” you whine, looking down at where Changbin is driving into you, feeling each thrust deeper than your pussy, all the way up to your throat. You tip your head back, looking at Jisung upside down.

He leans down, his hair swooping forward, tickling your face as he kisses your forehead and temple.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. Despite his soft voice, he does not lighten his grip, your hands still locked in place. “Does it hurt?” he asks, wide-eyed.

“Mmm,” you say, nodding, even while shuddering with so much pleasure that a tear spills down your cheek.

“Aww,” he says, licking that tear track, making every nerve spasm. “You’re so cute, baby.”

“She gets tighter when you choke her,” Chan says.

“Awww,” Jisung says. He releases one hand to reach for you. He wraps his fingers delicately around your throat, not even squeezing at first, just a caress as his hand curls around you.

Your adrenaline naturally peaks, body clenching, just like Chan said. Changbin groans his satisfaction and Jisung tightens his grip, keeping you pinned by the throat while Changbin goes still, coming inside you.

“Fuck,” Chan says.

Jisung releases your throat and you suck in a shaky breath. It is interrupted when Jisung swoops in, kissing your lips upside down. You squirm under the confusing messiness of his open mouth at this angle.

He comes up with a breath, one as shaky as your own, ravished from a kiss. He runs his hand through his hair and nods to Changbin, saying, “Turn her around.”

Two pairs of hands find you, manhandling you so easily between them. You yelp, startled by the movement, as they lift you up and turn you around so your head is in Changbin’s lap and Jisung is now the one between your legs.

Changbin hoists you into his arms, holds you in the cradle of his bicep as Jisung lays down between your open legs.

This is one area that Jisung never hesitates to indulge, his open mouth descending on your pussy with ravenous excitement.

You are so, so sensitive down there, almost numb beneath the first few searching swipes.

He presses his whole mouth there, moaning as he sucks on your clit then licks up and down, back and forth, around and around. His tongue rubs where Changbin just came, circling your sensitive hole, pressing there then licking back up to your already throbbing clit.

“Can’t come again,” you say, not entirely sure if it comes out coherent because your eyes are closed and your brain feels fuzzy.

He answers with a hum. He does not seem to be eating you out with the intention of making you come, but purely for his own pleasure as he sucks and licks and tastes. Despite that – and despite your words – you feel a tightening in your belly, a dull throb that feels too feels too deep to reach.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Changbin says when you start to writhe, his big arm wrapped around your neck, holding you tight to his beating heart.

The thud of that heart, the relentless flick of Jisung’s tongue, and Chan’s approving nod makes your thighs press around Jisung’s head.

“Oh—” is your last word before you come again, bucking hard against Jisung’s face. You gasp and cling to Changbin’s arm.

Jisung keeps licking at you, not relenting until your gasping whine is more of a scream. Then he kisses your thighs and hips before pushing himself up onto his knees.

He and Changbin wordlessly work together, sitting you upright to remove your only article of clothing. Both pairs of hands find you again, touching and groping and stimulating everywhere.

You shudder under all the sensation, eyes closing, rocking against nothing. You are desperate to close your legs to relieve the tension, but Jisung is kneeling between them. Fortunately, he knows you well, his hand sliding down there, fingers finding you, curling into you.

“You’re soo wet, baby, it’s embarrassing,” he says. “You need it that bad?”

He is still using his sweetest voice, like he doesn’t know he is about to utterly wreck your shit. Because Jisung always does without very much effort, simply by effect of having the biggest dick you have ever taken. It is part of the reason you usually can’t start with him, or why he takes his time when you do, because it is an aching endeavour whenever he tries to fit all that inside you.

Even the bulge in his shorts is obscene, the material rubbing against your thighs. He brings your hand to that bulge and groans when you squeeze it, saying, “That’s it, that’s it—”

He leans over you. It sounds like he and Changbin might be kissing above your head, sloppily at that. Jisung is probably shoving his tongue into Changbin’s mouth, the same tongue that was just inside you as it licked up the mess that Changbin made.

They press you between their bodies in an envelope of desire, utterly dominating your senses. Changbin smells like his shampoo, a deep scent like mahogany, while Jisung tends to douse himself in cologne, faded now at the end of the day but still a rich, expensive smell. Beneath all that is that simple sweat, bodies getting worked up, raw sex overwhelming all those other scents.

You breathe them in, whimpering because you are pressed so tightly between them. You can feel Jisung twitching in your hand and Changbin beginning to stiffen again at your backside.

There is a wet pop and a shared gasp when they stop kissing. Jisung grabs your face and pulls you up, his mouth hot when it claims yours, that stupidly talented mouth making you crazy.

“Hold her,” Jisung says, speaking against your lips while guiding Changbin’s hands. Jisung grabs your thighs and pushes them up, not quite folding you in half but almost there. He knows you need to be open to take him. Even then, you are already clenching, fluttering around nothing in anticipation.

Changbin holds your thighs back, hands pressed under the curve of your knee. Jisung hastily shoves his shorts down his thighs, leaving them gathered at the knee. He touches you and uses your desire to wet his dick, frantically jerking it as if it is not already intimidatingly hard and ready.

“Jisungie,” you say, already whining, wiping an embarrassing spot of drool as it spills over your bottom lip. Your body is so eager that it thunders out of control, clenching around nothing, and you can’t seem to stop it.

Jisung is so mean, just using his fingertip for a second, circling your fluttering hole. You try kicking him but your ankle manages little more than a flick, your legs trapped in Changbin’s hold.

“Sorry,” Jisung says, giggling and obviously unapologetic. He flicks your pouting bottom lip before finally putting the tip of his dick at your entrance.

The first little bit is always fine. It feels good to be full, your body needing him, pulling him in. He rocks back and forth a little, pushing an inch then another, and that’s when your body realizes how much there is, clenching and stretching and burning as he pushes in.

He goes slow, his whining mouth against your throat. But then Chan sits on the edge of the bed and touches his back. He bottoms out quickly and you squeak, eyes closed and breath coming fast.

You hear Chan say, “Take it off.” Confused, you blink your eyes open. Chan is talking to Jisung, tugging his shirt up his back.

Jisung groans but complies, tugging it over his head with one hand. The few seconds give you a precious moment to adjust, barely enough before he comes back and starts to fuck you with short, rolling thrusts. You think Chan is getting Jisung’s shorts out of the way given the jerky way Jisung moves on top of you, but then you are skin to skin with no obstruction.

“Mmph, yellow – legs,” you say, breaking only briefly to prevent a cramp in your thighs. Changbin is quick to smooth you out, helping reposition you more comfortably.

You sprawl flat on your back as Changbin moves away, wrapping your legs around Jisung’s waist without any hindrance. He holds himself above you, alternatively muttering expletives and cooing sweet nothings at you.

Changbin sits on one side, Chan the other, both fully clothed despite the obvious strain below their waistbands. It reminds you a little of the time Changbin topped Jisung while Chan fucked you, the pair of you kissing and touching between them the entire time.

Today is a little different. You are at the centre of it all, Jisung inside you, Chan’s hand on your chest and Changbin’s fingers circling your mouth. You take those fingers when prompted, sucking dutifully, batting your eyelashes up at him while he softly finger-fucks your mouth.

Chan’s fingers join him, touching your lip. You open your mouth wider and drool messily around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” Chan says. He rips his hand back in sudden needy haste. “Turn over,” he demands, smacking Jisung on the ass.

It makes Jisung yelp but he complies. With some help from Changbin, you roll over until Jisung is on his back and you are on top of him. Changbin kneels upright too, taking your face in his hands and kissing you, tongue penetrating your mouth as Jisung holds your hips and thrusts up into you.

Chan grabs the back of your neck, holding you in place while Changbin kisses you. Chan’s other hand runs down your front, tweaking a nipple and making you mewl into Changbin’s mouth. You are more panting than kissing by the time Chan’s fingers reach your pussy.

Jisung slows down just a little, out of breath and whimpering as you clench around him. This angle makes him feel stupidly deep, your eyes rolling back. He makes a few small, jerky movements, not even a deep thrust, and it still feels like he his hitting your heart.

Chan joins the kiss with Changbin. You are not even sure who is kissing you, just that it is one or the other, back and forth until you are dizzy. You know it is Chan’s fingers between your legs, the unmistakable pattern of his deft, familiar stroke making you spiral towards another orgasm.

“Oh, god, she’s – she’s—” Jisung says, squeezing your hips, going still for a minute to stop himself from coming when you do. He is breathing as hard as you.

You look down at Jisung, holding eye contact while you come hard on Chan’s fingers. Chan and Changbin are each sucking a bruise into either side of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say in a watery voice, thighs shaking, hands on Jisung’s abdomen as you lean forward.

“That’s it,” Chan says, kissing your throat sweetly while Changbin bites you meanly. Both of them swipe their tongue across the mark they leave behind. “Jisung,” Chan says, a demand without further explanation.

“Fuck, I know,” Jisung says, slowly moving his hips again.

It is so quick off your orgasm, it makes aftershocks move through your whole body. You are a livewire, making every ridiculous sound possible as Jisung fucks you, Changbin kisses you, and Chan gets up behind you.

Chan runs his hands down your sides, gently bending you forward until you are chest to chest with Jisung.

“Yup, just like that,” Chan says, rubbing the base of your spine then lower. His hands cup the curve of your ass, squeezing, tilting your hips just so. It gives him a good view of Jisung’s cock moving in and out of you, no doubt obscenely wet and messy, as well as exposing the smaller hole in your ass as he spreads you open.

“Changbin,” Chan says, still with that same confident assurance he will be obeyed no matter what, “Pass me the lube. Bedside drawer.”

As if you were not already sensitive enough, just hearing those words makes everything clench, which makes Jisung fuck you harder, which makes some place inside you that is so unbelievably soft and tender start to ache.

“Ah, that sound,” Changbin says when your moans turn to high-pitched whimpers. He pats the back of your head and reaches for the bedside table.

After a bit of rustling, he tosses the lube at Chan who catches it easily.

“One second,” Changbin says while Chan uncaps it. “She’s gonna come again. Big one, isn’t it, yes?”

The fact he knows before you do is a testament to how closely he watches you, how well he knows you. He is completely right, of course, as Jisung repeatedly pounds into some squishy, vulnerable part of you, so deep and so tender. You are not sure your clit would even respond if someone tried to touch it, but they don’t need to. It is enough that Jisung is hitting that place again and again.

You come with a scream, literally gushing around Jisung as you come. It takes everything in his willpower not to come, nonsensically begging Changbin to help so he doesn’t finish. Changbin just grabs him by the throat, much harder than Jisung grabbed you, making Jisung choke out a strangled gasp immediately. It works, though, as Jisung goes still but stays hard, letting you rock desperately on top of him as your orgasm seems to last ages.

When it finishes, you are completely boneless. You slump onto Jisung who takes a breath when Changbin lets go.

“All right,” Changbin says, smacking your ass. You hear him kiss Chan quickly. “Your turn.”

It is a good thing you feel so willowy; it makes it easy for Chan to open you up on his slick fingers. The few times you have done this, it always took forever, which was fun in its own way, but today it is so easy. He slides a finger right in, then another, hardly any obstruction as your body surrenders so completely to your boyfriends.

“You gonna take it okay, baby?” Jisung asks, his hands on your sides, holding you steady.

You look up at him, nodding, and open your mouth with a whine. He understands, lifting his head, meeting you in a messy, lazy kiss while he rocks slowly inside you. The kiss only breaks when Chan replaces his fingers with his cock, reigniting every spark in your over sensitized body.

“Ugh, god,” Jisung says, barely above a breath as he pants against your mouth. “He’s inside you, baby?”

You don’t answer because he can probably feel it when Chan is fully inside you. It takes a second for them to calibrate, find a rhythm that works. You are not sure if you are more impressed with yourself for taking it so easily this time, or impressed that Jisung has lasted this long and is still coherent enough to keep a steady rhythm.

“Changbin,” you say, his name a moan on your lips. You need to feel him too, his hand on your back not nearly enough.

“Go,” Chan says, groaning, your hips in his hands as he fucks you. “Oh, baby, you’re so good,” he says. “Isn’t our girl so good for us?”

Changbin and Jisung basically just grunt in reply, affirmative but irrevocably distracted.

Changbin kneels near your head, rubbing the back of your neck and gently guiding you to turn your face. Jisung swears when you open your mouth, a bit of spit drooling past his own lips as he watches you take Changbin’s cock past your lips. You mostly just lay there with your mouth open, letting him fuck it rather than really blowing him, but there are no complaints.

Chan squeezes your ass, a gentle knead that just makes you feel more open, stretched to your absolute limits, so full that you do not know how you will ever be happy without them all inside you.

It reinvigorates you. You find strength in your arm and use it to touch Changbin, fist circling where your mouth does not reach. You get him off first but Chan follows quickly, muttering things like you, tight, perfect, baby, baby, baby.

“Oh god,” Jisung says, somehow still holding out. When Chan slips out, it gives Jisung slightly more leverage. He pushes himself upright, letting you slump in his arms and cling to him while he fucks up into you with quick, desperate little uh-uh-uhs.

Finally, he comes, your name melting into a moan as he buries his face in your neck, mouth open where Changbin left his bitemark.

They surround you after that and you hum happily, letting them pass you from one pair of arms to the next. Jisung flops back, running his hands through his hair and catching his breath. Changbin is there with a cloth of some kind – you think it might be Jisung’s shirt, but Jisung is way past caring – and he gives you a quick and gentle wipe-down while kissing your sleepy brow.

“I should buy you sweaters more often,” Changbin says, giggling.

It makes you snort with laughter, blinking up at him with a grin. “Was gonna fuck you anyway, dummy,” you say.

“In that case, I’ll buy you another one right now.”

You giggle when he rubs his nose against yours in a cute little nose-kiss, eyes crinkling with an affectionate smile.

“Mm, c’mere, sleepy,” Chan says, rightfully as you are still mostly slumped in his arms. You manage to string an arm around his neck as he scoops you off the bed and holds you against his chest.

You are still a little dazed from so much sensation. You let your boys take care of you. After some quick inspection and care, you are plunked in a bath with Jisung to clean and decompress while the other two go strip and re-make the bed.

Jisung kisses your face while helping you wash, his careful hands and the hot water soothing every achy limb.

“Totally worth it,” you say, head under his chin, eyes closed and sighing contently.

Changbin comes to help you out. By then, you are bright-eyed, sore but in a way that makes you alive. You feel clean and fresh and loved, bundled up in a robe and then carried off in Changbin’s arms to the living room where food, a comfy couch, and Chan is waiting.

Jisung joins a moment later. The laptop is long since closed and utterly forgotten, the four of you snuggling up in a big blanket. Chan has an arm slung across the back of the couch, your head on his chest, Changbin’s arm around your middle, and Jisung half-asleep where heis slumped against Changbin.

“Round two?” Jisung asks then promptly yawns, making you laugh as Changbin playfully smacks him and Chan just sighs an amused sigh.

Taking the cue from Jisung’s yawn, you close your eyes and snuggle down.

“Love you,” you say, drifting off to each of them saying it back. You know one of them will carry you to bed eventually, so you let yourself drift into sleep, safe and warm, happiest when you are all together, just like this, the four of you always in perfect harmony.

#3racha x reader #3racha smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x you #skz x you #bang chan x you #seo changbin x you #han jisung x you

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amatariki · 2 months ago

Text

STUPID BOY MAKING ME SO SAD 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ she's got everything that i don't have

in lieu: after becoming jealous seeing riki's instagram stories, your boyfriend reminds you that he has his eyes on the most gorgeous woman in the world.

the muse: idol!nishimura riki x f!reader; established relationship; ft. moka wc: 1017 warnings: angst (+happy ending), fluff, jealousy, insecurities

whispers: uh so i ran out of hearts on gizmo while revising so im waiting for it to refill...go listen to she's all i wanna be by tate mcrae!! ><

reblog and i'll kiss you <3

You scroll through instagram, lazily lying on the couch in a hoodie and shorts.

It's a cool night, the city looks pretty, you just took a shower—you typically would've been watching a movie right now, waiting for Riki to come home so you two can have dinner and then cuddle together.

But you can't help but lie on the couch, your thoughts groveling at the back of your mind after you see a story of Riki and Moka from ILLIT together from the behind the scenes of a show they did together.

You know their relationship is just work-related, but seeing her with him strikes a small place in your heart.

After all, she's really pretty with a good body, rich and fun-loving. Her smile and facial features are to die for and she looks good in every dress she wears.

When she stands next to Riki in that picture, you can't help but have a pang of jealousy at the fact how good they look together. Like a match made in heaven.

Time passes by as you decide to scroll through TikTok instead, watching cat videos to try and get your mind off the story. Bisco lies on your chest, snoozing quietly.

Your eyes avert to the doorway at the sound of a key turning in the lock, looking away as you see Riki open the door and step inside.

You pay him no attention, going back to scrolling on your phone with one hand as the other scratched Bisco's head.

"Hi, baby," Riki says quietly, kicking off his shoes as he walks over to you and leans over the couch, brushing strands of your hair off your forehead.

When he sees that you don't answer, he chalks it up to you being tired and doesn't think too much about it. "I'mma take a shower and get back," he says coolly, walking away.

However, you've still got your unusually quiet attitude when Riki comes back.

"What's wrong?" He asks, frowning. His velvety deep voice is laced with worry as he helps you sit up, taking a sleeping Bisco off your chest and setting him down on his dog bed before plopping down on the couch next to you.

"Baby, did anything happen today?" His eyebrows are knotted in confusion as to why you're giving him the silent treatment. "Did I forget to get you something from the store on the way home? Is that what this is about?"

"It's just..." you blurt out, finally breaking your silence. You look down at your hands, playing with your manicured nails. It feels like a heavy lump is stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly before speaking again. "Don't you ever feel like you're too good for me?"

Riki recoils, taken aback by your words. "Why would you think something like that, baby?" He asks. "Did one of your friends say something to you?"

"No, it's..." you start, your voice trailing off. "It's just...that picture you posted with Moka on your stories."

"Go on," Riki urges warmly. "Talk to me, baby. What about it?"

"She's so pretty, and...and you look so good together," you say truthfully, your insecurities spilling out. "And then there's me. I'm not pretty or anything."

Riki takes your small hands in his large ones, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of your palm. "You're right," he says.

Your heart plummets to your stomach, your eyes widening in shock. "W-What?" You'd always suspected it, but it hurt to hear Riki say it himself.

"You heard me," he continues, acting like he didn't just break your heart in half with two words. "You're not pretty. You're absolutely gorgeous," he says with a teasing smile, although you can see depths of love in his brown eyes.

He lifts one hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm not too good for you, I actually don't deserve you at all," Riki murmurs. You can see the sincerity in his eyes. You can see how much he believes he doesn't deserve to be with you, how he believes he's lucky to have you. "But I'm going to work for your love everyday. Just like how you're going to promise me that you'll never say anything like this ever again. Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say in relief, not realizing that you've been holding your breath.

One hand leaves your hand, reaching out to cup your face. Your breath hitches at the touch. It's warm and adoring. It's full of promises.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" he asks quietly.

You nod in response. "Yeah."

He tentatively presses his lips to yours, his plush lips moving softly across yours, painting dreams of forever on them. The kiss isn't rushed or hurried. It soft, gentle and, god, you could keep going on for eternity like this.

Riki's arms snake around your waist, pulling you close, holding you gently like a porcelain angel as your arms make their way around his neck.

His right hand runs up and down your spine, deepening the kiss as you gasp at the feeling. He chuckles, slipping his tongue in.

His tongue works almost as reverently as his lips do, seeking out the deepest corners of your mouth as if he was painting them.

Eventually, you both have to pull away due to the lack of oxygen. He looks at you with glazed eyes, breathless as he presses your foreheads together.

"I love you, baby," he declares, sentimentally. His cheeks are all flushed from the deep kiss, hair mussed from your hands running through them. Yet he still looks like a god with his glowing tan skin and sparkling brown eyes that hold the entire world in them.

"I love you too, ki," you respond, your heart swelling with adoration for the man in front of you. Grateful to have him in your life. And you can tell he feels the same about you.

"i'm hungry," he says, suddenly pulling away. "Please tell me you made dinner."

You let out a laugh at how quick his demeanor changes. "I did, ki. Don't worry."

taglist: error 404; no records found (comment to be added)

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asxgard · 3 months ago

Note

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged

Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

#the pitt #jack abbott #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x you #the pitt x reader #asxgard writes

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