#gifs that will rotate in your mind for free warning

[egophiliac]

absolutely flawless plan, everybody. great job.

[augustwinesworld]

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬—𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

description: 

pairing: dr. michael robinavitch x  female ob/gyn attending! reader

genre: hidden pregnancy…maybe? smut.

warning: explicit smut (p in v), oral (f! receiving), DRY HUMPING (sooo hot), unprotected sex (never do this in real life, ever—couldn’t help myself lmao), age gap relationship (present time! robby late 40s, reader mid 30s—flashback! robby late 30s, reader mid 20s), problematic power dynamics (in the flashback reader is an intern, robby is a junior attending), inappropriate use of hospital property (?), female reader.

notes: idk what happened. this wasn’t in my outline. I started fleshing out the chapter and BOOM, the smut just appeared. Also, I am so sorry to any filipino people reading this, if I butchered the tagalog please lmk. THIS WAS NOT BETA READ.

word count: 10.3 k.

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

12 years ago...

The vibe was off.

It wasn’t the usual exhaustion from a tough shift or hospital malaise—it was sharper. The kind of wrong you could taste in the back of your throat.

Robby could feel it the second he stepped onto the floor. 

Felt it when his gaze skimmed across the nurses’ station, caught your pink-scrubbed form bent over a chart—and you didn’t look up.

Didn’t flash him the usual quick smile. Didn’t so much as acknowledge him.

Good, he thought viciously. Better that way.

He knew he was being short—clipped orders, tight jaw, no eye contact—but he couldn’t seem to stop it. It was either that or let something uglier bleed through.

You weren’t any better.

You charted like the pen was a weapon, avoided him like a live wire. No smart remarks, no quick glances. Just silence and a careful, perfectly crafted space between them.

Which made it worse. Somehow. 

He stayed terse, barking out orders with a little more edge than necessary.

You stayed busy, answering questions without once meeting his eyes.

They orbited each other in a strange, broken rhythm—like magnets flipped the wrong way, close enough to feel the pull but fighting it every step of the way.

When the call came over the PA—Trauma incoming. OB consult needed. ETA four minutes—he felt it like a crack down his spine. 

Of course.

Of course it had to be you on consult rotation today. Of course it had to be on his case.

He reached the trauma bay first, pulling on gloves with brisk, jerky motions. You arrived seconds later, steps light but purposeful, pink sneakers squeaking faintly against the tile.

You caught sight of him and flinched so subtly most people would’ve missed it.

He didn’t.

 You hovered at the door like you considered staying back. 

But then you squared your shoulders, locked it all away behind that bright, professional mask he hated so much, and stepped in beside him.

A nurse at the desk, watching them assemble, snickered under her breath, teasing, “uh oh. Dream team’s back together.”

There was a ripple of laughter from behind the desk—not cruel, exactly, but knowing. Like the whole fucking hospital had gotten a whiff of whatever was simmering between them lately.

Robby forced a half-smirk, the kind he used to disarm patients’ families in bad news consults. 

“All part of the service,” he said dryly, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Premium package: expertise and entertainment.”

It got the intended effect—a few more chuckles, a little of the tension bleeding off the room.

But when he glanced sideways, you were already moving toward the gurney bay, chart in hand, shoulder brushing past him.

Over your shoulder, syrup-sweet, you chirped, "Just smile and nod—it’s easier that way.” 

The nurses chuckled, thinking you were just poking fun at yourself.

Someone called after you, “Ain’t that the truth!”

“Lucky you. You get to watch us work our effortless magic."

The nurses cracked up, tossing you good-natured jabs. But Robby felt the gut punch underneath it.

Effortless.

Right. 

The bitterness laced through honey.

But he caught the way your fingers tightened around the edges of the chart you held. Caught the way you shifted a fraction farther from him—no closer than you absolutely had to be, not even to grab a sterile gown.

He almost said something.

Almost reached for you.

Instead, he turned toward the incoming gurney and bit down hard on whatever reckless thing was clawing up his throat.

When they reached the trauma bay, the patient was already there—a woman in her late twenties, panting through a contraction, one hand braced under her swollen belly, eyes wide and terrified.

"Name's Emily," the nurse called quickly. "Third baby. History of a ventricular septal defect follow-up, but no set delivery plan. Presented in active labor about an hour ago. No prenatal records on file yet. No beds upstairs, so she’s ours for now."

"Vitals?" He asked, already snapping on gloves.

"Stable for now. Cervix was seven on arrival. Labor’s progressing fast."

He flicked a glance toward you, and caught the tight nod you gave, all business. 

Still so damn new, scrubs just slightly too crisp, name badge gleaming, but already standing your ground like you’d been born for this.

No panic. No dramatics. Just pure focus.

"We’ll need NICU on standby when the baby’s out," you said, voice steady. "And page Cardiology for a newborn ECHO, stat."

"On it," a nurse answered, jogging off.

Meanwhile, you stepped closer to the bed, voice softening as you addressed the laboring woman directly.

"Emily, you’re doing great," you said, one gloved hand resting lightly against the patient's shaking thigh. "I know it hurts, but you're not alone, okay? We’re right here with you. We’re gonna take care of both of you."

"My husband—" Emily gasped between breaths. "Where's—"

One of the nurses answered quickly, squeezing her shoulder. "He's on his way, sweetheart. There was a pileup on the bridge—traffic’s slow, but he’s coming."

Emily nodded shakily, biting down on a cry as another contraction tore through her.

The intern immediately stepped in, resting a reassuring hand on Emily’s arm. "You're doing so good, Emily. Breathe with me."

You turned to a nearby nurse. "Page Dr. Levin. Let them know labor's progressing quickly."

The nurse nodded and hustled away. 

Robby hovered close, not interfering, just...watching. Ready. His hands itched to help, but he knew better. This was her case to lead. And hell, if he wasn’t a little awed.

When the nurse returned, slightly breathless, she reported, "Dr. Levin's tied up with another delivery. They said you're clear to manage—hold steady."

For half a heartbeat, something flickered across your face—the barest tremor of uncertainty.

He saw it. Of course he did.

But then you lifted your chin, took a deep breath, and turned back to Emily with firm hands and a gentler voice.

"Okay, Emily. Looks like I'm here with you for now. You're not alone. We're right here."

Emily’s eyes—wild with fear—locked onto yours. "Is my baby okay?"

"She's strong," the intern said firmly. "She's a fighter, just like you."

Emily squeezed her hand—a desperate, sweaty grip—and nodded, teeth clenched against the next contraction.

There it was. That thing you had. That quiet, steel-threaded kindness no textbook could teach. You just had it, in every fiber of your being.

The next hour blurred.

Emily’s labor accelerated at a breathtaking pace. There was barely enough time to pull together a sterile field. Barely enough time for you to snap on gloves and don a gown before the baby crowned.

"Almost there, Emily," you murmured, voice low and encouraging. "You’re doing beautifully. Just breathe."

The patient whimpered through another contraction.

"It hurts," she gasped, panicked.

"I know," you said—gentle, but firm. "It means you’re close. When you feel the next urge, I want you to push right through it. You can do this. We’ve got you."

Robby was there at her shoulder, mirroring her calm, matching her rhythm. He coached the patient through each final push while you supported Emily with both words and hands, working seamlessly together.

You moved in perfect tandem without needing a single word.

"Big breath, Emily—now!"

The baby slid free, slick and furious, and Robby caught her deftly, heart thudding—clamping and cutting the cord.

"Female, vigorous, crying," he called out.

"Taking her for ECHO! Mom informed!" a NICU nurse shouted, rushing the newborn away, tiny fists punching the air.

Emily sobbed, half in relief, half in terror.

"They’re checking her heart," you reassured, leaning close. "That's all. She's strong."

One last glimpse of tiny fists and furious wails—then gone.

Emily clutched at her gown with a trembling hand. "My husband—"

"Still on his way," Robby said quietly from her side. "He knows you're both okay. He’s getting here as fast as he can."

Emily squeezed her eyes shut, another broken little sob escaping, but she nodded, trusting them because she had no choice. Collapsing back onto the bed, half-sobbing, half-laughing.

Robby exhaled slowly, swiping a forearm across his forehead as he watched you work. Gentle hands palpating the uterus, checking for bleeding, even whispering reassurances too low for him to catch. 

Emily cracked a watery smile at them. 

And he saw it hit. The way you blinked hard, throat working around whatever emotion you were swallowing down. 

God, you cared. You cared so much it made him ache. 

He turned to find you stripping off your gloves.

"You good?" 

You didn’t even look up.

"Fine," you said, too quickly. Your brows furrowed briefly—just a flicker—as your hands moved lower, more deliberate now.

"Uterus firm?" he asked under his breath.

"Borderline," you murmured, careful to keep your tone light, soothing the patient with your free hand. "Placenta delivered intact. No tears. Mild vaginal bleeding—expected. Nothing alarming, yet."

Before he could say anything else—before he could betray how hard he was trying not to reach for you—the charge nurse leaned in.

"Still no beds upstairs," she said. "Mother's stable. She can stay put for now."

He nodded. You nodded.

And just like that, the moment disappeared—tucked away like something too dangerous to look at directly.

You turned back to work. 

The current pulling you both under, once again.

It wasn’t until nearly an hour later—after two more traumas and a screaming match in a back hallway neither of you would even remember the details of—that the call came.

"Your patient, Emily" a nurse said, tugging at her sleeve. "She says something hurts. Down there."

Your forehead furrowed. Instinct snapped into place.

"Vitals?" you asked sharply.

"Stable for now. She's pale, though." 

Without thinking, you gestured for Robby to follow—habit, muscle memory—but he hesitated. Watched you.

Still, he stepped in behind you.

When they got to the room, Emily’s husband was already there, sitting at her bedside, hunched over her hand like it was a lifeline. He looked like he was about to cry. 

“She said it hurts," he said immediately, desperate. "She said it feels wrong—please, can you—?"

“We’ll take care of her," you said, already pulling on gloves.

At Emily’s bedside, it took seconds to see it: a deep, dark bulge along the right labia, swollen and angry under the skin.

You pressed gently. Emily cried out.

"Hematoma," you muttered.

"Expanding," Robby confirmed, grim.

Your eyes met, just for a moment, over the patient’s trembling body. 

Then you moved. Hands colliding, breath held, adrenaline buzzing through every shouted word.

"Type and cross two units. I want blood at bedside!" Robby snapped.

"Two large-bore IVs, wide open," you called to the nurse. "Start fluids—ringers, fast."

"Ready the sterile tray. Lidocaine. Scalpel. Suction!"

The portable scanner whined to life as they prepped the site. One nurse darted in with meds, another with a sealed tray.

"Ready?" he said.

"Ready."

The blade kissed skin, and a flood of blood spilled out, hot and dark and wrong. Way too much blood, too fast. Way deeper than a simple hematoma.

The suction whirred to life as they worked, fighting to keep up with the flood of blood. 

But your gut twisted. Something was off.

“Emily,” you said, clamly, “I know it hurts, but stay with us, okay? Just breathe. You’re safe.”

Emily let out a broken moan, almost animal. Suddenly her blood pressure monitor started to shriek.

"Ultrasound, now," you snapped.

The tech swung the wand over Emily’s belly—and there it was: fluid pooling deep in the abdomen. Liver involvement. Bleeding into the cavity.

Recognition hit like a gut punch.

“Fuck. It’s not just the hematoma. It’s systemic.”

"HELLP?" Robby asked tightly.

"Or DIC, probably both," you answered, voice flat. "Page Dr. Levin—911."

No simple fix. No easy out. A fucking bloodbath.

One of the nurses bolted from the room.

“Pressure's tanking,” a nurse called. “Sats dropping!”

“Keep packing! Give a bolus now—what’s the status on the blood?”

“Almost here!”

“We need to move now,” you said under your breath, voice slicing through the rising disarray.

“I’m aware,” Robby snapped, harsher than intended.

You recoiled, just for a second, then planted your feet and met his eyes again.

Emily cried out, this time weaker.

"Prep for surgery!" He barked.

Gloves snapped on. Tray rattled. He grabbed a line. You grabbed suction. You complemented each other seamlessly. The fucking dream team.

Everything was chaos. 

Gurneys squealed. Monitors howled. Gloves snapped on in a dozen frantic beats.

Dr. Levin stormed through the door, barking orders—body already covered in a half-tied surgical gown.

"Vitals?" she demanded. "Blood loss? Labs? Is the OR ready?"

Robby stepped back instinctively, clearing the way. He was there to help if it were needed, but he knew it wasn’t his fight anymore.

He caught a glimpse of you across the chaos—bloodied, but still beautiful—as you followed your attendings' lead, and it kicked something vicious inside him.

Dr. Levin snapped a glance toward you. "You scrub or you step out," she said, curt but not cruel, simply expecting a quick answer. 

But he saw you hesitate—just for a second. 

You turned and saw him. The husband. Still there. Still clinging to the bedside, white-knuckled and weeping quietly now, his hand shaking as he tried to hold onto Emily’s fingers through all the tubes and wires.

In that instant, your mind was made up.

"I’ll stay with him," you said, quiet but certain.

The words knocked the breath out of him, almost leaving him stupid.

Without another word, you peeled off her bloody gloves, yanked on clean ones, and crossed to the husband. Soft hands guiding him out of the blast zone.

Robby stayed where he was, frozen. Watching and wanting. 

He had no right to feel this. No excuse. And still—it was there, scorching him from the inside out.

The husband crumpled halfway into the hallway, sliding down the wall, burying his face in his hands. You went with him, unflinching. Dropped into a crouch beside him, your hand bracing lightly between his shoulder blades, anchoring him when the rest of the world was spinning out.

You murmured something, words Robby couldn’t catch over the shriek of monitors and boots pounding past. 

But he knew the cadence. Knew the shape of it.

You were praying with him.

Not loudly, or taking the lead. Just quietly, like it was the only thing you had left to offer. The only thing that mattered.

God, it wrecked him.

Don't do this, he thought. Don't you dare go to her. Don't you dare make this worse.

But he was already drifting—helplessly, blindly—toward you like a man leaning into a fire without noticing the heat until it was too late.

You shouldn't be able to gut him like this. Not yet. Not like this.

But you did.

He turned toward the door without waiting for orders. Not because he wanted to leave. But because if he stayed another second, he was going to lose the last thread of control he had left.

Because some reckless, broken part of him already knew: you didn’t even have to touch him to own him.

You already did.

He stayed longer than he should have. Long after the OB team left the ER. Long after the adrenaline bled out of the room, leaving only the wreckage behind.

He found himself leaning against the wall across from the trauma bay, pretending to review his chart, pretending not to watch you.

You were still sitting with the husband. No gloves now, no sterile gown, just you and your pink scrubs. He could see your face was calm, but your voice was still too soft to hear from where he stood.

Then a nurse approached, murmuring something in your ear.

Robby’s gut twisted before he even heard the words. He could see it in the nurse's face, in the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

The patient hadn't made it.

He watched—couldn't not watch—as you rose to your feet, moving carefully toward the husband.

Watched the way your hands hovered for a second, wanting to reach for him, not sure if you should.

Watched the moment the words hit.

The husband reeled back from her like you'd slapped him. A choked, animalistic sound tore out of him, and for a second Robby thought he might hit you. 

He moved instantly, stepping forward, already halfway between you. He was ready to use himself as a barrier—no hesitation, no second thought. But the man didn’t strike.

He didn't. He just broke. Collapsed into your arms like a man whose world had ended—because for him it had.

You held him without flinching. Held him like you’d been built for this, for carrying other people's grief when it got too heavy for them to bear alone.

Robby’s throat burned.

He turned his head, couldn't look anymore.

By the time he looked back, the damage was done. The husband was crumpled on the floor, sobbing. And you sat with him—shoulder to shoulder—saying nothing.

After a while, someone from NICU came and talked to the husband. Something about the baby. 

A chance to go meet his daughter. A chance at something salvageable.

The husband staggered away, still weeping.

And finally, finally, you were alone.

You sat there for a moment longer, head bowed, hands limp in your lap. Then you stood, moving like someone twice your age, and started toward the back hallway.

Robby followed without thinking.

"Hey," he called after you, low.

You didn’t stop.

He caught up easily, staying at your shoulder.

"You did good," he said, rough. "You stayed."

Nothing. Not a glance. Not a breath.

You barged into an empty on-call room without slowing. He followed.

"You could’ve scrubbed in," he said, almost defensive now. "That was a big case. A huge learning opportunity. You let it go."

You stripped off her bloody scrub top and threw it into the bin with a vicious flick. The sound of it hitting the mattress was louder than it should’ve been. 

He edged closer.

"It was...decent," he fumbled, hating himself for not being able to say what he meant without faltering. "Uhh—selfless. You did the right thing."

Still nothing. An awful fucking silence.

Something in him twisted sharp and stupid. "You should be more careful about getting attached," he said before he could stop himself. 

God why the fuck did he say that? How is that the only thing that came to mind? What a fucking idiot. 

Now that made her come back. You turned slowly and leveled him with a look so furious it made his mouth go dry.

He’d never seen her so angry. Furious, yes. But something deeper too. Something that had his gut clenching before you even opened your mouth.

"That's rich," you said, voice shaking with rage. "Coming from you."

He opened his mouth—tried to speak even. 

Too slow.

"You think this is about getting attached?" you asked, stalking toward him. "You think I stayed because I’m green? Because I don’t know any better?"

He took a step back, but you followed, relentless.

"Maybe because I’m soft? A little bit stupid?"

He shook his head, but it didn’t matter.

"No, Robby. I stayed because someone fucking had to," you hissed. He swallowed hard, jaw flexing.

"You think I don’t know what’s going on?" you said, voice raw now. "You think I don’t feel it too?"

You jabbed a finger into his chest, not hard, but enough to make him flinch. "You think I don’t know what this job costs? You think I don’t know exactly what this does to us?" Your voice was going hoarse now, brittle from all the things you hadn’t said for weeks. “What it does to you?”

"You’re not the only one scared, Robby. You’re not the only one who knows this is dangerous. I get it." Her voice cracked, fury burning through it. "But you don't get to use that as an excuse to punish me for something we both feel."

He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, but you cut him off—you weren’t done.

“You kissed me. And then you disappeared. For whole goddamn week. Not a fucking word.”

Your eyes were wild, glassy. “You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t feel it too?”

You stepped in, close enough that he could smell blood mixed in with whatever coconut-vanilla soap you’d used that morning.

"You act like we’re fine one second and then you treat me like a fucking stranger the next. You pretend none of it’s happening—and when it does, you shove it all onto me like it’s my fault."

You took a shaking breath, close enough now that he could feel the heat rolling off you.

"I see it in your face," you whispered, furious and gutted all at once. "You don’t look at me unless I’m fucking up. You don’t talk to me unless you’re trying not to want me."

He said your name, wrecked, a broken apology without words. 

You flinched like it physically hurt to hear it. 

"Don’t," you said. "Don’t you dare say my name like that."

And for a second, just a second, you stood there, breathing hard. Rage and things said undone, bubbling between them.

He reached for you without meaning to. You didn’t stop him. 

When your bodies crashed together, it wasn’t soft. It was rough, and messy, and inevitable, and everything you’d been avoiding. 

His hands landed on your waist like he'd needed something to hold on to—like you were the only solid thing left in a world he no longer trusted. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, hauled him closer with a force that was almost violent. 

He was fucked. 

You were fucked. 

You were both fucked. 

Everything you’d buried under sharp words and longing glances and the unbearable weight of being near each other for so long without touching.

A mix of harsh breaths, spit, heat. Your nails scraped down his arms. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling your mouth harder and harder against his like he could climb inside you and disappear.

God, you were warm. Warm and trembling and there, finally there.

He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you—lips swollen, eyes glassy, breathing uneven like you’d run miles just to get to this moment.

“I hate you,” you whispered, voice cracking once again.

“I know,” he said. It tore him open.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back in.

Your bodies locked like puzzle pieces that never should’ve fit, but somehow did. You pushed him until his back hit the door and then kissed him again, deeper, slower now, like you needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream. 

He let you take control for a second, hands hovering at your waist, not sure where to touch, afraid of pushing too far. Thinking that maybe he didn’t deserve to. 

But sensing his hesitation, you took his hand and placed it flat over your heart.

“Feel that?” you asked.

His fingers curled instinctively, as if to shield it.

“I feel it,” he whispered. “I feel all of it.”

And maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or the way his eyes looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that had ever made sense—but something shifted.

His fingers skimmed the curve of your jaw, then lower—groping at your thighs as he lifted you, effortless, like he'd done it so a hundred times in a hundred other lives. You gasped into his mouth but didn't pull away. 

Your legs tightened instinctively around his waist, the heat between you sparking sharp and immediate. 

He didn’t break the kiss as he carried you to the cot, lowering you onto it with aching care. Your spine hit the mattress, and your breath caught, but he was already there again, bracing above you, forehead still brushing yours, waiting. 

Always waiting—for you.

You breathed like that for a beat, into each other’s mouths. You clutched at his waist, your anger still burning low in your gut, but your mouth was soft now when it met his again.

His hands came up to your face, tentative. Fingers stroking the wet curve of your jaw, tracing the outline of your cheekbone, brushing damp hair back from your forehead. He kissed you like you were breakable. Like you’d splinter if he pushed too hard.

But you were breaking already.

Leaving your mouth, his lips kissed your wet cheeks. Trailing down to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your throat. One kiss at a time. Slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing you.

Your fingers curled into the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it up. He let you. Raised his arms. Let you see him. Not just the body, but him. The man you’d seen come apart over the course of a hundred sleepless shifts, who’d touched you once and vanished into the walls after. The man who looked at you now like he was terrified and in love and trying not to drown.

His hands found you again, sliding under your soaked top, touching skin like it was a secret. You shivered at the contact, the warmth of his palms.

“Say stop,” he whispered.

But you didn’t. You didn’t even hesitate.

Instead, you leaned into his touch like it was the first real thing you’d felt in weeks.

He smiled—barely, just a flicker—and it broke you a little more. Because underneath everything, the storm of them, he was still gentle. Still him.

“I’m scared,” you admitted against his neck.

His arms came around you fully now, pressing you to his chest. “Me too.”

And that truth, soft and wrecked and shared between them, was what made this real.

You pulled back just far enough to cup his face in both hands. Her thumbs brushed the edge of his cheekbones. Her eyes searched his—like you were daring yourself to believe him.

This wasn’t just lust.

This was every moment you hadn’t touched.

Every glance across the trauma bay. Every almost. Every held breath. Every second of wanting that had turned into hurt.

It spilled over now, like it couldn’t be contained.

He kissed you again, slow, like a vow. His hands cradled your hips, not to take, not yet—but just to hold. Just to be close.

When you rested your forehead to his, you were trembling.

“Don’t let go,” you said.

He didn’t answer. Just kissed you once more, softer than any kiss that came before it.

He’d never let go.

His palms skimmed your waist, memorizing the soft give of your body. The subtle rise and fall of your breath. His thumbs circled the skin just beneath your ribs—bare now, exposed by the thin hem of your top riding up.

Your pulse beat fast at your throat. He kissed it. Then lower.

You shivered.

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, but you didn’t pull away. Not even when his hands slid under your top and flattened against your back, not even when his mouth brushed the hinge of your jaw.

“Hey,” he whispered. His voice had gone gravel-soft. “Look at me.”

You did. Slowly. Like it cost you something. So he kissed you again, slower, so he wouldn’t have to face the hurt gazing back. 

Like he meant to prove something.

You let him undress you like you were giving permission for something you didn’t quite understand. He stripped your slowly, like the unraveling of a secret. Your top first. Then the bra beneath it. 

His fingers trembled as he touched you, like the mere touch of him would corrupt you.

When you tried to cover yourself with your hands, he caught your wrists gently.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said. “Please”.

So you let him. You let him see you. All of you.

And Robby just—stared.

You were completly undone, mouth kiss-bruised, your chest rising fast, like you hadn’t taken a full breath in weeks. Your skin was balmy, a little salty with sweat. You were trembling. But you didn’t hide. Not from him.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, reverent. Like he wasn’t sure if he was swearing or praying. “You’re—” 

But no words came to mind. Instead, he just dropped to his knees. 

You gasped. One hand flew to his shoulder like you needed to steady yourself, like the sight of him there—kneeling, breath heavy, lips parted—was almost too much.

His mouth went directly to that sweet spot, where he could feel your pulse racing. He sucked gently, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat echo against his lips. 

The scent of your bodywash—sweet and golden—rose up around him like steam. 

It clouded his senses, made his head spin. He felt drunk on it, on you, on the fact that this was real. That you were letting him close. That he had your skin under his mouth and your hands in his hair had your breath catching just for him. 

God.

He blinked—like he had to make sure this was real, like he didn’t trust what his eyes were seeing.

What had he done to deserve this? to deserve her? 

He cupped one breast gently, reverently, and kissed the curve with a kind of aching awe. Your skin was hot here—almost scorching to the touch, like the heat was rising from somewhere deep inside you. 

His fingers traced delicate paths along your ribs, brushing the swell of your breast, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps that bloomed under his touch. He could feel the hitch in your breath, and even the way your body leaned into his hands like it had been waiting for this

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice thick. “You’re so beautiful.”

He circled her nipple with his thumb, slow and lazy, watching it tighten under his touch. Then he bent to take it into his mouth, sucking softly, then deeper. You gasped—high-pitched and raw—and grabbed fistfuls of his hair like you’d needed something to anchor you.

“Robby—”

He groaned at the sound of his name. God, that did something to him. Something deep and helpless and animalistic.

He switched breasts. Licked the sensitive skin before drawing it into his mouth. Your back arched against the thin mattress, hips shifting restlessly beneath him, like your body couldn’t decide whether to rise into him or melt into the sheets.

“You okay?” he murmured against her skin, still panting. “I can stop. Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“No,” You breathed. “Don’t stop.”

And thank fuck, because he couldn’t have even if he tried.

He dropped back to his knees, hands sliding up your thighs until they met the waistband of your scrubs. He looked up.

“Can I?”

You didn’t speak—just nodded again, hard.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband and peeled everything down. Scrubs. Panties. All the way to your ankles.

When he looked up again, he had to pause.

Because you were bare in front of him now. Completely. Sweat beading lightly at your sternum. Breathing so hard he could hear it—ragged and real.

His mouth went dry.

He swallowed. 

His hands were shaking, but he didn’t even care. 

He ran them down the outside of your thighs, slow and sure, until they found the bend of your knees. He gripped them, spread her open just enough, like he needed to feel the shape of you there, the trembling tension of your body under his hands. 

Your skin was silky under his palms, your thigh muscles fluttering like they weren’t sure whether to resist or give in.

His breath caught in his throat, and he sank lower, drawn in by the scent of your skin, the impossible softness of it, the way you let him take his time.

He kissed your hipbone. Your lower belly. Tasting salt and skin and the ghost of your perfume—sweet and dizzying. Dragged his cheek along the soft inside of your thigh, inhaling the heat of you. Behind that bodywash, he could smell the faintest edge of something else—something completely yours.

It filled his lungs, made his head foggy, like he’d walked into a heatwave and couldn’t find the exit. Until the only thing in the world was you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“So are you,” you whispered back, fingers slipping into his hair.

He let out a breath, forehead pressed to your stomach. Your nails scraped lightly against his scalp—just enough to sting. He liked it. He wanted more of it.

“I’ve never wanted something so badly,” he said it so quietly, he was surprised you heard him.

Your hand slid into his hair. “Me neither.”

Then your grip in his hair tightened, not guiding—just holding.

So he knelt lower, shoulders between your knees, hands still on your thighs.

He kissed the tender skin at the crease, where thigh met pelvis, and felt you twitch beneath him. His heart was pounding. His mouth dry. And when his mouth finally touched you—just a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, truly tasting you for the first time—you whimpered.

You whimpered.

A tiny, involuntary sound—high and helpless and half-ashamed—but it cracked something in him. He moaned into you, deep and guttural, and started again. Licking you slowly. Carefully. Like you were something sacred, and this was a prayer. 

The taste of you. The smell of you. The feel of your thighs tensing under his palms.

You were gasping now, uneven little breaths, and he could feel every sound you made in the flex of your thighs, the clench of your fingers in his hair. When you tugged—hard enough to sting—he groaned again, sharper this time, and pushed his tongue deeper, tracing circles, lines, little teasing patterns.

It was too much and not enough all at once.

Your other hand reached down blindly, landing on his shoulder, digging in as you rocked against him. He let you. He wanted you wild. He wanted you wrecked. Unraveled. Every breath a surrender.

“Robby—” you gasped. Not a request. Not a protest. Just his name stripped bare.

He slid a finger inside you, slow and careful, groaning at the sudden wet heat gripping him tight.

“God, baby,” he whispered. “You feel... fuck.”

You clenched around him, your back arching slightly, your breath catching on a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob. He paused, eyes flicking up.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop.”

So he didn’t. He added another finger, curling them just enough, angling until—

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Oh my God—”

That. That.

He latched his mouth to your clit, and sucked. Slow at first, almost tentative, then faster, more confident. Catching the rhythm of your hips and matching it, feeling you get closer with every broken whisper of his name, every helpless whine. 

Your hand in his hair twisted hard, and he didn’t care. It only drove him harder, deeper, hungrier.

You came with a cry—his name falling from your lips like a sob—and he stayed right there, holding you through it, licking and kissing you softly through the aftershocks. 

You trembled beneath him, gasping, hips jerking involuntarily every time he brushed you again.

He didn’t stop until you whimpered something like “please,” all airy and ruined.

You were panting when he rose again, chest heaving. Your skin was scorching hot. Eyes glassy and unfocused. Lips bruised and parted. 

He kissed your stomach again. Your ribs. The underside of your jaw.

When your mouths met again, it was nothing like the first time.

You kissed him like you needed him to know. Like everything you hadn’t said was being poured into him through her lips. Like you were burning—and somehow, he was both the match and the water. 

Your mouth opened against his, tongue slick and hungry, and he tasted you—really tasted you now. The sweetness of your skin. The heat of your breath. The faint echo of your own release still on his tongue.

You moaned into him, and his whole body tensed. Every muscle tight, every nerve ending screaming. He’d never felt this kind of hunger before. Not even close. It was overwhelming, terrifying. Addictive.

Your hands fumbled at his waistband, fingers clumsy with urgency. You were shaking, breathing like you’d run a mile, and your mouth never left his for more than a second.

“Please,” you whispered, voice wrecked. “I need you.”

The word nearly brought him to his knees. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe.

Because this was happening. You were asking for him. And there wasn’t a part of him—body or soul—that didn’t already belong to you.

“I need you too,” he said. And this time, it cracked.

You pulled him in again, and he kissed you like he meant it.

Like he was starving.

Like he'd been drowning for years, and you were the first breath of air.

Because he had. He had wanted this—you—for so long it had carved itself into him. And now you were here, under him, around him, letting him in.

Your legs tightened around his hips. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer, closer, until your chests pressed together, skin to skin, heart to heart.

All he could hear was your breath hitching.

All he could feel was your nails digging into his back, dragging him down like you couldn’t bear a single inch of space between you.

All he could taste was your name, unspoken but alive in his mouth.

He doesn’t let you go.

Not after you cum, not after the trembling quiet that settles over you like fog. His face stays buried in your stomach, the heat of his breath still spreading over damp skin, his hands still firm around your thighs like he’s anchoring you in place. Like he’s not ready to surface. Like he might never be.

You’re shaking. Slowly, silently, in that post-release unraveling. And he holds you through it—like he’s the only thing that can keep you from dissolving entirely.

You thread your fingers through his hair, not gently, not just affection. It’s grounding. A silent I’m still here. A don’t stop touching me.

But then he shifts. 

Your chest was still rising fast when his eyes meet yours—blown pupils, damp cheeks—and you look at him like you can’t believe he’s still there.

And he is. He’s not moving. Not pulling away or deflecting or pretending any of it meant less than it did. He stays above you, arms braced, heart hammering, caught in between whatever feelings you’re not ready to speak out loud.

He watches you trying to catch your breath and thinks: I did that. I got to do that. And it should scare him. It should make him bolt. But instead, it roots him in place. Makes him feel something terrifyingly close to home.

“I—” he starts, voice low and hoarse, but you don’t let him finish.

You pull him up to you. Fist your hands in the collar of his shirt and drag him up until your mouths meet. Kisses him open-mouthed, tasting yourself on him, swallowing the sound he makes into your throat. And when he groans—low, guttural, reverent—it vibrates through you like a second climax.

He breaks the kiss only to mouth at your jaw, your cheekbone, the soft, sensitive skin beneath your ear. Your body arches instinctively into the drag of his weight—hips tilting, thighs parting again, already needing more.

He’s not asking questions anymore, he’s moving on instinct.

When he shifts his hips, the front of his scrubs drags along your thigh—and her gasp punches straight through him.

You lift into it, chasing the contact like it isn’t just friction—it’s relief, a damn finally breaking open. Your legs tighten around him, and you grind against the hardness still trapped between you. It’s clumsy and frantic, but you want him, and he can feel it.

His breath shudders as you grind up again, the soft heat of you dragging against his hard, aching length through far too many layers. It’s clumsy, maddening, perfect. He clutches at your hips like he can’t bear to let you move without him.

And God, you’re killing him—rubbing yourself over him like you’re trying to carve the shape of him into you. Every movement makes him sink deeper into it. He buries his face in your shoulder and lets out a low groan, hips instinctively answering yours.

If they stay like this much longer, he’s not going to make it. He’s going to cum just from the feeling of you writhing against him. Clothes in between or not. 

“Robby,” you whisper, almost a warning, almost a plea.

He hears it. Feels it. Freezes for half a second like he needs permission to keep going.

Your hands fumble between them—fingers unsteady and impatient—and he realizes you’re trying to undo his scrubs. The drawstring catches, knots. You curse softly, and he feels himself smile.

“Here,” he whispers, his voice gone rough, and he helps you. Together, you tear through the last of the barriers—cotton and a little hesitation and whatever thin line you’ve been pretending still exists.

And then he’s bare—finally—his scrubs kicked off, forgotten, the cold air licking over his flushed skin as he covers you again.

Your eyes drag over him—his chest, the line of his stomach, the flush across his throat, and that downright sinful happy trail resting a top his navel. 

No more barriers. No more restraint. He chokes on the sound it drags out of him, the way your thighs fall open to cradle him, so ready for him.

He’s not calm anymore. Not careful. His control’s gone. He fits himself between your legs, shaking with it, dizzy from wanting you for so long. His hands frame your waist like he’s afraid he’ll fall through the moment if he doesn’t hold tight.

You’re everything he’s never let himself take. And now—God help him—he’s about to.

Your damp skin. The way your eyes darken as you drag them over him. He shudders under the weight of it. Not just desire—reverence. 

He touches you again. Slowly, trying to memorize you. Trying not to lose his mind.

And when he settles between your legs, it's not dominance. It's gravity. It’s surrender.

And for a moment, you just look at each other.

Then he reaches down—between you—and touches you again, runs his fingers through the wetness there, swears under his breath when he finds you still open, still aching.

“I don’t—” His voice cracks. “I don’t have anything.”

“I’m on the pill,” you whisper. “And I trust you. Just—”

You break off. Her voice fails under the weight of the moment.

But your hands say it for you. The way you pull him down. The way you guide him.

The way your whole body opens.

He’s shaking as he lines himself up. Not from fear. From restraint. But also from something softer.

He has to breathe through it just to hold himself still.

You’re slick and hot and open beneath him, and when he lines himself up, it takes everything in him not to just take. 

But this is you.

This is you.

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, and the sound you make—sharp, helpless, real—almost breaks him. Your back arches, nails dig into his skin, and he feels you take him in like you were made for this.

Like he’s not an intruder. Like he belongs.

Your fingers curl around his shoulder blades, your back arches, and you gasp—a sharp, involuntary sound that drags straight from your lungs.

He groans, deep and raw, like he’s trying not to collapse.

You’re hot and tight and soaking, and he slides, trying not to rush, trying to make this last. But it’s overwhelming—you’re overwhelming—and his whole body is tense with the effort of not falling apart the moment he’s fully inside you.

When your hips finally meet—when he’s there, all of him—you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath for ten years.

He doesn’t move.

Just rests his forehead against yours. Your noses brush. Your eyes open at the same time. And there’s nothing guarded left between them.

“This…” he says, barely audible. “God. This feels like…”

He never finishes. But you know what he means.

It feels like everything.

And then he starts to move.

Not fast. Not frenzied. Just deep. Slow. Like he’s building something, not just chasing release. His hips roll into yours with purpose, with rhythm, with care. Every thrust stretches something inside you that hadn’t been touched in quite some time—something you didn’t realize you’d been starving.

You wrap your legs around him, thighs cradling his waist, trying to bring him closer, deeper. He answers with a groan, thrusts harder, presses a kiss to your cheek, your temple, your lips.

It’s not just sex. Not to him.

You moan his name—quiet, almost shocked—and it wrecks him. Because he wants to answer it with everything.

So he holds your hand. Laces your fingers tight and pins it above your head—not to trap you, but to stay connected. To prove he’s still there.

He doesn’t say what he’s thinking.

That you’re undoing him.

That he might never recover.

That this is the beginning of the end, and he’d do it all the same.

He moves inside you like he’s afraid to wake from this—like each thrust might break the spell. Slow at first, reverent, then deeper, as your body rises to meet him, to welcome him in like it’s been waiting.

And maybe it has. Maybe you both have.

Your hips lift, chasing him. Your fingers press into your shoulders, then his hair, pulling him closer. Your mouth parts on a breathless sound, and it undoes him. Everything about you undoes him.

He’s not thinking anymore.

He’s feeling—with every inch of her wrapped around him, every soft gasp, every whispered plea. His heart pounds like it’s trying to speak for him. Like it’s trying to climb up his throat. 

Every slick slide of your hips is a plea, every arch of your spine a surrender he wasn’t sure he was ready for. It overwhelms him—how much you give, how much he wants. It’s too much and still not enough.

He buries his face in your neck and lets himself break there, lets himself believe this is real, just for a second. That he gets to be here. That he gets to love you like this—without shame, without hiding. 

Even if he’s never said the words. Even if it’s only here, in the silence between your bodies, that he ever could.

And somewhere in the middle of it—sweat-slick skin and shaking limbs and your name on a loop in his head—he chokes out, “God…” he pants. “You feel so good, I can’t—”

He thrusts deeper, slower. Shuddering. “I don’t wanna stop.”

It slips out without thought, raw and hoarse and truer than anything he’s ever said. “I don’t know how.”

His voice cracks on it.

You go still for a second, your breath caught between you.

Then your hand finds his jaw, trembling slightly as you coax him to look at you. And when he does—eyes blown, lips parted, ruined in the most beautiful way—you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Your other hand moves through his hair, cradling the back of his head as he rocks into you.

“Stay here,” you breathe, forehead against yours. “Just like this—with me.”

He stills for a breath.

God, you’re soft even now—sweet in a way he doesn’t deserve. And the way you say with me like you actually believes he belongs there—like you’re offering him something permanent—he can’t bear it. He won’t let himself believe in it, not really. But fuck it, does he want to.

He presses his mouth to your shoulder to keep from saying something too honest. To keep from telling you he’s never felt more home than right here, skin to skin, heart to heart.

“I’m here,” he mumbles against your skin. “I’m not going anywhere.” A lie. A wish. A prayer.

And maybe you hear the crack in it, or maybe you’re too far gone to notice because then you’re falling apart beneath him, and the sounds you make aren’t words at first—just broken, breathy sounds punched out with every thrust.

“Oh—God—Robby…” you gasp, almost whines. “Please—don’t stop—don’t ever stop—”

Then your voice breaks into soft, helpless babble.

You shudder beneath him, thighs trembling around his waist, and when you fall over the edge, you clutched him and let your nails leave marks down his back.

“Michael,” you breathe.

Then again—broken, urgent. “Oh, michael.”

And he’s gone. Gone.

As he hears his real name fall from her lips, he knows he’s falling. Knows he’s already too far gone.

He stutters out a sound like a sob. And then it hits him.

Your body tightens around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go. Like you won’t. The way you pulse around him—hot, frantic, relentless—undoes him completely. It’s not just the friction, not just the pleasure, it’s you—all of you—wrapped around him, crying his name like a prayer.

His breath catches in his throat. He tries to hold on, tries to stop, but it’s no use.

He spills into you with a groan, low and wrecked, his face buried in the curve of your neck, one arm locked tight around your waist. His whole body shudders with it. Like he’s giving something back he didn’t know he still had.

He keeps his eyes clenched shut. Like if he doesn’t look, the world can’t take this from him. 

They lie there like that, both of them shaking, breathing into each other. Your hand still in his, fingers sticky with sweat. Her chest pressed to his, rising and falling as their pulses slowly begin to settle.

Then—quietly—you let go.

Your fingers move to his hair, soft, reverent, stroking through the damp strands. 

He stays buried in her neck, doesn’t want to lift his head. Doesn’t want to ruin this by speaking aloud, by naming it, by asking for something he knows he can’t keep.

But your touch undoes him all over again.

No one's touched him like this in years—maybe ever. Like he's not just wanted, but known. Like he could stay.

He swallows hard against the burn in his throat, his hand still gripping yours, like if he lets go, the moment will slip through his fingers and vanish.

“Robby,” you whisper.

God, he loves that. How you sabor his name whenever he says it out loud. Trying to feel every syllable and how they roll on her lips. 

A little louder: “Robby…”

His breath stutters. He clings to the moment like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.

And then you say it again, louder, almost sharp now—“ROBBY.”

His eyes snaped open. 

Bright light. Cold air.

The sound of his name—still echoing. But it’s not your voice anymore.

He’s standing just outside Trauma Room Two, a clipboard in his hand, with Dana waving her hand in front of his face like she’s been doing it for a while.

“Jesus, Earth to Michael,” she says. “You good?”

He blinks. His throat feels raw. “Yeah. I—I’m fine.”

Dana doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it slide—for now.

He pivots away before she can press further, walking down the hall like the fluorescent lights might burn him alive. His heartbeat still hasn't evened out. Every breath scrapes. Every step is a reminder that the past is bleeding straight into the present, and there’s nowhere in this goddamn hospital to hide from it.

He passes the nurses’ station, trying not to limp through the ache still in his chest, and that’s when he hears them.

Perlah and Princess, whispering in Tagalog, throwing glances in his direction like he can’t feel them.

“‘Yung reaction niya kanina? Sobrang weird,” Princess murmurs.

“Alam mo, baka may history sila nung babae,” Perlah whispers back.

He doesn’t know what they’re saying. Not exactly. But he knows what it feels like.

He knows the sound of people talking around him—about him. He can feel the weight of their stares, the way they try to glance without being obvious. 

He catches Princess miming a fainting motion and Perlah responding with a wide-eyed shake of her head.

“Ang drama, ‘di ba?” one of them breathes. “Parang teleserye.”

They laugh, restrained but not unkindly. He knows it isn’t malicious. It’s curiosity. Speculation. The kind that blooms in places like this, where drama is the norm and gossip moves faster than blood through a vein.

Still, it grates.

Not because they’re wrong—but because they might be right.

Because he doesn’t have the language to explain it, even if he tried. Because there’s nothing he could say that would make this feel any less insane. Because some part of him—the part still stuck in that flashback—is screaming that he deserves to be talked about like this.

He keeps walking.

He doesn’t look back.

The files are digital now, stored on hospital tablets and synced between departments. He finds one, signs in, and scrolls until he lands on what he shouldn’t be looking for.

Noah. Age: Nine years, three months. 

Sex: Male. 

Arrival: cyanotic and unconscious after blunt trauma from an SUV. Brief cardiac arrest in transit. Bleeding from a head laceration. Resuscitation successful. 

Blood type: AB positive. A rare enough match—compatible with his. And yours.

There’s no last name listed. Just “Mother: information withheld at patient request.”

His thumb freezes above the screen.

Noah.

He stares at the name for too long.

The word blurs and sharpens, then blurs again.

Noah, from the Hebrew—nuach—rest, comfort.

It’s almost funny.  Or cruel. Or divine.

He doesn’t know which.

Because it’s not just a name. Not to him. Not now.

It’s a prayer.

It’s a mercy he’s long forgotten how to believe in.

It’s the kind of name whispered into linen blankets after a war. The kind spoken over sleeping children in stories passed down like blood. The kind rabbis preach about during parsha Noach, reminding congregations that even in destruction, there’s survival. That even in floods, there’s mercy. That one man, alone and chosen, can carry a future in the bow of a boat. 

A name that carried the future in its hands. A name that meant someone made it through.

Noach matza chen b’eynei Adonai—Noah found grace in the eyes of God.

He swallows hard.

He hasn't thought about that in years.

Not since he stopped showing up to temple. Not since he stopped believing God had anything left to say to him.

This isn’t about loss. Not yet. This is about the possibility of something that lived.

The irony isn’t lost on him. He hasn’t known peace in years, not the kind that stays. Not the kind that sinks into your bones and says, you can stop running now.

He thinks of the Shema. The words that still curled around his ribs when he can’t sleep. Not a shield, exactly—more like a thread. A thread he pulls when the world spins too fast, when grief makes the ground tilt.

Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know what he’s praying for. He just knows it feels like a prayer.

A boy named Noah. Nine years old. Hit by a car and still breathing. And his blood type—compatible with Robby’s. And hers. No listed father. No last name that gives anything away. Just—

Noah.

A name that shouldn’t mean anything, but feels like it knows him.

Like it’s been waiting.

His mouth goes dry.

He tries to focus on the chart again. On the vitals, the scans. Anything to keep the rising panic from pushing through his ribs. But he hears footsteps behind him and doesn’t even need to turn around.

Dana.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says. Half-pissed, half-worried.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” she snaps, tugging his arm. “Come with me.”

He doesn’t resist.

They step outside through the staff doors, onto the ambulance bay. Dana lights a cigarette, doesn’t offer him one. Just waits, arms crossed and her gaze burning through him.

He stands beside her in silence. Watches as rain starts pouring in. The once sunny sky now a dull gray.

He doesn’t know where to start. Or maybe he does.

“There was a girl,” he says finally, voice raw. “Before I came here.”

Dana raises her brows but says nothing.

“We We were together,” he says quietly. “A year and a half. She wasn’t just some girl—I loved her. Like, deeply. Fully. The way people only do once.”

Dana squints at him through the smoke. “And you left her?” 

He nods. Once. Like the motion itself hurts.

A pause. The words come slower now, heavier. “Didn’t say goodbye,” he admits, voice breaking on it. “Didn’t give her a fucking word. I didn’t even tell her where I was going. I just disappeared. She woke up and I was gone.”

Dana doesn’t blink. “Jesus, Robby.”

“Yeah,” he snaps, his voice sharp with guilt. “Yeah. I know. You don’t have to say it—I say it to myself every goddamn day.”

He looks away, toward the street, where red lights blur in the rain. “She loved me. I know she did. And I—God, Dana. She was everything to me.”

Silence stretches between them. The rain hisses around them like static.

“I thought I was doing her a favor," he says. "I thought if I left… I don’t even fucking know. Maybe she'd be better off without me."

Dana lets the silence linger, smoke curling from her lips. Then she exhales sharply through her nose. "You’re an idiot."

He flinches, but she’s not done.

“You think you saved her? That wasn’t mercy, Robby. That was cowardice."

He bows his head soaking it all in. The taste of the word coward still burning on his tongue because it’s true. It's what he’s called himself every day since. Not in passing. Not just once. But like penance.

Dana watches him for a beat, then steps forward—barely a shift, but enough to make the air between them feel tighter. She speaks quieter now, but it still lands like a blow.

"You didn’t just disappear, Robby. You broke something. Something real."

That’s when it hits him. All at once.

His chest caves in on itself, his throat locking up around something sharp and guttural. The rain feels like needles now, every drop stinging against skin that suddenly feels too thin.

He steps back like her words were physical. Shakes his head once, hard, like trying to dislodge the thought before it roots.

“No—don’t—” he rasps. He tries to look away, but even the shadows feel too loud. His hand grips the railing behind him, white-knuckled.

“She—fuck.” He drags a hand down his face. His voice goes lower, fraying at the edges. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lie awake every night trying to rewire it—trying to un-ruin it?”

And then quieter.

“I haven’t let anyone close since.”

Dana doesn’t move. Doesn’t rush in. She just lets him crash against the weight of his own words.

“You loved her,” she says, softer this time. “And you punished her for it.”

“I punished myself,” he snaps—but even he knows it’s not the whole truth. “I thought if I buried it deep enough, maybe it wouldn’t rot everything else.”

A pause. His breath shakes. Then he goes still, like he’s finally flatlined.

Dana takes one last drag from her cigarette, flicks it away into the rain.

“So what happened today?”

He presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. “I saw her. With a fucking kid”

There’s a pause—too quiet, too long.

Then: “How long ago was this?”

“Ten years.”

Dana stiffens. Her mouth parts like she’s about to say something, then closes again.

“The kid is…”

“Nine,” he says.

And that’s it. That’s the moment.

The math doesn’t just hang there—it detonates, slow and sharp, slicing straight through the humid silence.

Dana lets out a long, quiet, “Shit,” but there’s no real surprise behind it. Just gravity. Just confirmation.

Robby’s expression doesn’t shift, but something inside him buckles. His throat works like he’s trying to swallow glass.

“She looked exactly the same,” he murmurs, barely audible. “Like time skipped her. But then I saw the kid. And he had eyes like—”

He cuts himself off.

Dana’s voice is gentler now, but steady. “Like yours.”

For the first time all day, he doesn’t try to outrun it. He doesn’t shift the blame or dodge the truth or bury it under sarcasm. He just lets it hit him. Full-force.

The ache of it, the finality—the years lost, the silence, the what-ifs.

He might’ve left her.

But he didn’t just leave her.

He left them.

And now, the cost of that choice stands in front of him with wide brown eyes and a crooked smile—one he might’ve passed on without even knowing.

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[gyllenhaalstories]

COUNT IT DOWN — JAKE GYLLENHAAL

summary: jake grunts. jake grunts a lot. jake grunts very loudly. do i need to say more?

warnings: smut (semi public sex, quickie, fingering, penetration, orgasm control, creampie). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2920

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i can't get the sound of jake's grunts out of my head (not that i want to anyway) 🥵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"9, 10, 11, 12..."

You sighed. They had been counting to twenty so many times over, they probably hit the million mark by now.

"13, 14, 15, 16..."

You busied yourself around the gazebo, alternating between taking photos of the cloudy sky and videos of the gentle breeze that made the branches of the pretty flower bushes surrounding the area dance.

"Harder!"

The camera, following your movement, focused on Jake rather than the white flowers.

"17, 18, 19... 20!"

"Fuck!" Another grunt.

Jake's trainers and fitness team showered him in praise for sustaining yet another repetition of literal gut punches.

But all you could hear was the noises he just made.

Your man glanced over at you and waved, soft giggles completed the picture. He was gesturing something. For someone who spoke so much with his hands, he was not that good at it.

You figured he meant he was almost done. Or so you hoped.

The punches started all over again, but the sound of the gloves hitting Jake's skin and the redness that bloomed over his abs indicated they were going all in for this last set.

You approached the gazebo, attention focusing on the noises that Jake was making and how he scrunched his nose with each punch.

With each grunt too. Was it a subterfuge to distract himself from the pain, to trick his mind and body to take hit after hit?

Your jaw dropped, although only Jake noticed, while you watched them. It was mesmerizing. No, actually, it was hypnotizing.

The ceiling fans could not rotate fast enough to dry the layer of sweat that was all over Jake's body. He contracted his abs with all his might, hands behind his head and torso exposed to receive more torture. The masochistic exercise was sending his brain into overdrive.

You murmured a faint "You're gonna hurt yourself" that got blatantly ignored by everyone in the room. You clutched on your phone harder, as if you were receiving a part of all that pain too. The fingernails of your free hand dug crescent shapes into your palm.

"One more." His opponent was back at it with the assault on Jake's abs. Everybody in the room chanted the last series of numbers until the training was finally over. In between each digit, there was a loud grunt. In between each hit, the veins of Jake's pelvis bulged while pumping all the blood that made his skin a dark share of red.

Everybody but you retreated to one of the many entrances of the gazebo, getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, you leaned on the column for much needed balance.

"That was fantastic!" Jake laughed. His laughter was the only one that sounded genuine. The other guys chuckled, worried, at his appearance. They pointed out how he was "red as shit". To which Jake answered that "We want the movie to be good, you know."

You were concerned, still, but more so turned on by the scene.

The endorphins were hitting Jake hard. You could tell he was worked up in more ways than one. The euphoric giggles and cocky smile, the way he hopped and jogged around the gazebo to keep his body in this momentum. He was not hearing a word that his team was telling him, something about setting up his ice bath, as they exited the area in a cacophony of squeaky shoe noises. The only thing Jake acknowledged was your presence.

You let him walk to you close enough to pull you by the hand so he could kiss your lips.

"I knew it. I knew you wanted to watch." He smirked. "I gave one hell of a good show, didn't I?" He took your phone out of your hand and set it on the bench from where he grabbed a towel to wipe his forehead with. "Don't tell me that's not true, it's written all over your pretty face."

You rolled your eyes, not even trying to stand up for yourself. "So, you're done now?"

Jake shrugged with a not-so innocent grin on his blushing face. "Kinda."

"What do you mean, kinda?" You sighed, annoyed. "If I hear you guys count up to twenty again today, I swear..."

"Ooh, I'm scared." He giggled again. He calmed down and squinted, looking at you through his long lashes. "No counting up."

Your satisfaction with his answer was short lived.

"But we'll count it down."

You watched him while he draped the towel down on the black mats. "Remember when I bet that you wanted to join me today? I was right." He took a step closer to you. "I'm feeling all the good luck running through my veins right now, so I wanna make another bet."

You looked at him with a confused arched brow. Your eyes studied his body. From the messy wet hair, down to the curve of his pecs, and even further down to his swollen abs; your eyes were met with the bulge in his shorts.

"I bet you that I can make you cum," he brought your attention back to his face. "With twenty thrusts."

"Here?" He nodded. His team was not far away, you could hear them dump bags of ice in the converted trash container that was used for temperature shocks. You rolled your eyes. Laughing while taking in so much pain was insane, but not having a care in the world about getting caught was even more insane. "Nah."

"Come on! I know you want to." He repeated the next words in a lower, quieter voice. "I know you want me to fuck you." He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. "Twenty thrusts, that's all I'm asking." Jake loved to work his magic, he knew all too well that this same magic worked every time. Well, almost. "You gonna give it to me? Gonna let me fuck your pretty pussy? Gonna let me show you who you belong to?" The hand that was on your cheek started to travel down your body, following the shape of your stomach until it slid under the hem of your clothes.

You gasped when you felt his warm hand cup your pussy underneath your panties.

He grunted when his fingers dipped ever so slightly in your wetness. "Yeah, you do. You want it so fucking bad." He pushed his middle finger between your folds and teased your clit. "You were getting so worked up from watching me that you had to go play in the flowers like a busy little bee. You couldn't keep your eyes off me for long, huh?"

You cut his monologue short with a passionate kiss. Your tongue invaded his mouth but quickly lost the battle for dominance.

The way you moaned against Jake's lips gave him the unspoken permission pull down your pants after you both kicked off your shoes. He broke the kiss to help you lay down on the towel and remove his shorts too. "I take it as you accept my bet?"

You both laughed while you gently slapped his chest. "Just fuck me already."

"Attagirl." You did not need to say it twice. Jake spread your legs open and positioned himself between them, kneeling and taking deep breaths while he took in the sight of you offering your body to him.

"We gotta be quiet." You reminded him about the risks of getting caught. What a waste of words.

Jake used your wet pussy to jerk off and lube his cock. He looked at you and how you squirmed under him. You were so wet for him, he glided over your folds and clit easily. "Oh yeah, looks like you care so much about being quiet." He didn't give you time to protest, he guided his cock and pressed it against your entrance. "I don't give a fuck if they hear. And judging by how wet you are..." He pushed, slowly, until his tip was inside of your clenching walls. "You want them to hear us too."

You moved on him, helping Jake get all the way inside you. He was surprised, but through a nod you both agreed that the first thrust did not count.

Jake puts his hands on your stomach, keeping you immobile and at his mercy. "Count down for me, baby."

And you did just that, or so you tried. Jake's first five thrusts were slow and deep, he let you get adjusted to his size while he praised you over and over again about how good you felt wrapped around him. He was rock hard, all the stamina built up from his training made it near impossible to hold himself back and stick to his stupid bet.

"Please, harder!"

Jake grunted in response. He obliged, happily. Selfishly, too. He scrunched his nose and bared his teeth with each thrust.

When you called out the number fifteen with a loud and long moan, he switched things up.

He lifted your legs so you could use his body to lean them on. In this position, you were slightly lifted upwards. He pulled almost all the way out and pushed all the way back in your pussy. The angle made your entire body flinch. He waited for you to say the next number out loud, but his patience ran out fast. "We're not even halfway done and you've gone dumb already? That's my good girl."

With the next ten thrusts, Jake successfully fucked the shyness out of you. You counted down from 15 to 5 loud enough to please him and most certainly loud enough to be heard. He was reaching so deep inside of you, that a few of those numbers failed to come out of your mouth. Instead, your incoherent "Ah, ah, ah" drove Jake even crazier and that made him want to keep hitting that sweet spot.

Now, there were five thrusts left. You could tell that Jake was dangerously close to the edge by the way he grunted louder and without any restraint. He was lost in the moment, without a care for the world that surrounded him. All that mattered to him was making you feel good.

"Fuck!" You cried out when his thumb brushed over your untouched clit. "That wasn't part of the," you panted, he rubbed your clit faster. "Of the rules."

"Do I look like I care?" He breathed out. "Look at me."

You batted your cock drunk eyes at him and took in the view. He looked so good, all sweaty and needy from this different, and much more entertaining, form of exercise.

"That's it, forget about it. You don't need to think." He pulled out, leaving just his leaky tip inside your hole. He watched your chest rise and fall with anticipation for the next thrust that followed quickly after.

"5... 4..." You counted along.

"3," Jake counted down with you. His thumb rubbed your clit at the perfect pace and intensity. Your pussy clenched so tight around him that he knew the last couple of thrusts would make it almost impossible not to cum too quickly. You were both so close. "Just like that, baby. You're taking me so fucking good."

"2." Your face twisted into a blissful expression. Nothing else mattered other than your imminent release. You rested your hands on Jake's arms, kind of trying to keep him close but also kind of trying to push him away so you could process the way your body felt in this very moment.

Jake stilled inside of you. The way your walls clenched and relaxed around his cock felt heavenly. He pulled out completely and sat back. He grunted when he caught the view of your pussy, juices leaking down on the towel from your stretched out hole. You looked so tempting, so delicious. If only he had more time, he would devour you like there was no tomorrow. If only. "Ready, baby?"

You nodded, hands reaching in his direction to try and bring him back where you needed him the most, which was balls deep inside of you.

"Yeah, you are." He leaned forward to kiss you, a distraction from the touch of his fingers on your sensitive clit. He needed you closer, impossibly closer, so that he could feel you explode all around him.

You arched your back. He swallowed your moans. Your legs tried to wrap around his waist, you were trying anything to get him to make you see stars.

"I regret this stupid bet." He scoffed. He looked down at his slick covered cock, it was red and veiny like the rest of his abdomen. It throbbed between your bodies. He could not wait any longer. He used his free hand to line himself with your entrance for the last time. He took a deep breath and exhaled when he pushed his cock inside of you.

Inch by inch, you felt all of his length until he bottomed out. With his thumb rubbing your clit, it all felt so intense. You let out your loudest moans yet when you started to cum on his command.

Jake tried to talk you through it, telling you that you were his "perfect cockslut" and that "your pussy was made to take my cum". He slurred his words more than anything.

His voice echoed in your empty mind, so did the sound of his grunts when your clenching walls brought him to his orgasm.

He fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch your reaction to being filled with his load. Jake moaned your name when your pussy relaxed around him. It finally let him move, not that he wanted to.

Your legs fell down on the floor and you laid there, giggling to yourself. Jake lost no time to join you, laughing along while he kissed your lips.

You put one hand on his cheek and the other one on the back of his head, not caring for his sweaty hair. You pulled him closer for another kiss. You wanted this moment to last forever, and, well, you desperately wanted a second round.

"Oh shit." Jake cursed when he was called out for his ice bath again. "Just in time." He pointed out the odd timing, right when you guys finished. The was no way this was a coincidence.

Your eyes widened at the realization. There was no way this was a coincidence. They heard you. They heard it all.

"Coming!" Jake yelled out then exploded in a fit of giggles while he stood up and put his gym shorts back on.

"You're unbelievable." You, finally, laughed along with him while trying to hold your body up on your wobbly knees.

Jake looked down at you and scrunched his nose again. "You look so fucking good down there."

"I know." You agreed.

Jake winked at you, then he told you how you were the unbelievable one. He adjusted himself in his boxers, apprehending the temperature shock that awaited him, but you pushed his hands out of the way.

You licked over his puffy, red abs in a long stripe. You tasted his salty sweat on your tongue while you kept going for as far as you could.

You earned a loud grunt and helping hands to pull you back up on your feet. "You're not shy now, huh?" He smiled from ear to ear while he watched you dress up too. Jake promised himself that he was not going to let this be the only time you licked his sweat like that. You could not get away with doing something so hot.

You caught him staring so you stole a quick kiss from his lips as to not take an even longer and more suspicious amount of time before sending Jake back to his fitness team.

"Don't worry, baby." He tried to reassure you, which worked for a split second. "Everybody already heard you while you were cumming. I'm sure they won't mind if we take a little more time." Jake held your jaw in his hand and planted a long kiss on your lips, making sure you did not wiggle away from him just yet. He called the shots, or so he liked to think, and only pulled away when his named was called out again.

You shooed him away, laughing along.

"Go back to the house and wait for me there, yeah?" He started to jog away from you and exited the gazebo. "I'll need something to warm me up afterwards." He turned around to wink at you and he disappeared from your sight. You could still hear his mischievous giggling while you collected your senses, until the noise was replaced with the group of men loudly discussing the amount of ice to put in the makeshift bath.

You picked up the towel from the floor, hiding the evidence that the drops of his cum left behind, and you grabbed your phone from where Jake left it. You squinted when you noticed how it was propped up against a boxing glove, aimed in the direction where Jake fucked you. You gasped audibly when you discovered that your phone was recording the scene the entire time. You held your phone tightly in your hand and walked out of the gazebo, heart racing and heat radiating from your core.

Jake was right: he would need something warm to help him recover from the ice bath. And with this little video of yours... You knew exactly how to keep his favourite set of holes ready.

[bunnyscryptarchived]

So Wet

content / warnings -> MDNI (18+) —TABOO

🖋️sarah cameron x fem!reader: cw ; perv!sarah, masturbating with shower faucet, oral(f), degradation, praise, fingering.

part one!

sarah couldn't help it. she knew it was wrong—still, she couldn't stop herself from swiping your panties out of your laundry after she told you she was heading up to take a bath before bed. relishing in her perversion. she buried her nose deeper in to the soft fabric and inhaled deeply. gripping the edge of the tub so hard her knuckles turned white as the warm water flows on her puffy clit. sarah rotates her hips— bucking in to the water as she pictures you touching her. hands gripping her breasts, traveling down her stomach, before burying your face in to her cunt. you'd make her feel so good. her obsession with you grew day by day and tonight it's at an all time high.

you laid back on the couch. finishing up the last of the movie. stomach full of worry. sarah had been gone awhile, it's not like her to miss out on a movie. maybe you should go and check on her.. she has been acting strange lately. climbing up the stairs, it's eerily quiet until you hear water running and the sound of heavy breathing.

inching closer to the bathroom, you crack the door open. seeing sarah writhing under the faucet, your panties under her nose. jaw dropped and eyes wide as your eyes lock on to the way she holds herself up with arm. chest rising rapidly as her stomach contorts. she looks angelic. her tanned skin glistening. the entire scene had you losing your mind with lust, clenching your thighs as you admire your best friend get off. loving the pretty sounds leaving her lips. you could tell from the way her eyes rolled back and the speed of her hips that she was close and you didn’t want to miss out.

“want some help there?” your voice comes as a shock as sarahs screams and nearly looses her grip. clumsily jolting to sit inside the tub fully. the sight woudve been comical enough to make you laugh but you’re far too turned on.

“i- what… how long have you been standing there!?” she makes no move to cover her chest as you stalk closer to her. arms stretched across the tub as your face is inches away from hers.

“long enough.” tongue darting out to wet your bottom lips as your eyes travel down her body. “now i asked… if you wanted some help.”

sarah lays against your chest, head thrown back on your shoulder. muffled moans coming thru the panties that you shoved in her mouth, brown eyes squeezed shut as your fingers disappear deep inside her and come back out soaked.

"take my fingers so well" planting greedy kisses against the soft skin of her neck while circling the tip of your pointer finger over her clit, she bucked her hips at the feeling.

"wanna see you cum, baby, show me, how you cum”

you felt her tighten around your fingers, her body shaking as she panted heavily against you.

you pulled sarah's body tighter against your chest, locking her in place as you took the panties out of her mouth— fingers gradually, but quickly quickening their pace inside of her.

you could hear her moans more clearly now and my god did she sound so sexy.

she whined and bucked her hips harder into the palm of your hand. she tried closing her legs close around your hand, but you used your free hand to pry them back apart. “nah baby, keep those legs open for me” 

"be a good slut for me."

her fingers clenched tightly on the arm you used to pin her body against yours as there pit in her stomach raged at this point. " oh fuck— fuck! wanna cum for you”

"then cum for me."

the sync of your fingers inside of her and the way the heel of your hand grinded on her clit just right had her seeing stars as her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

you could feel a wet slick pool on the palm of your hand as she rocked against you. her body pressed hard against you mixed with watching her cum jump starting your own orgasm.

"o-oh shit"

her nails dug deep into your arm as you both squirmed against each other. your teeth latching on to her shoulder.

as you both came down from your highs, basking in each other's presence. sarah's head tucked into the crook of your neck as you planted a kiss to her hairline. you sat in comfortable silence until,

"so when did you turn in to such a little perv huh?"

your friendship is not going to be the same after this

tags: @juniebugg @breeistired @ijustwantttoread

[prettynpinkputhy]

One night stand

Summary: y/n is forced to do some after hours training with König

🎀Warning🎀: 18+NSFW, Oral sex, raw sex, breeding, rough sex, fluff, slight angst,praise/degradation kink, size kink etc…

ClingyKönigxreader💗

Part 2.

Part 3

Word count: 4.k

“That was good but you’re leaving yourself open.” A gloved hand takes hold of your wrist. He lifts both arms, protecting your face. Your eyes dart up catching a brief moment of eye contact before he quickly looks away. Green. His eyes were green, you hadn’t noticed till now. König was sweet but he made sure to keep his distance from people—the fact that you were this close to him at all was a shock. Sgt. Ghost didn’t take kindly to your recent mistake on the last mission. He doubled your workload and put you on probation, because most of the Barracks were close friends of yours, he assigned you the quietest person on the team. Now you and König spend three hours a day training after hours. While your peers train together, you're mopping floors and cleaning toilets. Ghost doesn’t let you train during work hours in case your colleagues distract you. This was a punishment and he made that clear. “I’m sorry you have to do this with me everyday. This is my punishment, you shouldn’t have to suffer on my behalf.” He shakes his head at your apology.

“I don’t mind…I know how Ghost gets.” He places both hands on your hips, rotating your body. The truth is he really didn’t mind, most days he looked forward to seeing you. “Keep your core strong.” He instructs. His fingers travel up the curves of your body as he repositions you. His large hands warm up your waist as ungodly thoughts intrude your mind. The mask made it impossible for you to read his emotions, any expression came from his eyes (which he often hides). The only change you could see was the way his breath hitched as his finger accidentally grazes your breast. He was always so respectful when touching you, the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Once your body is angled correctly he lets go, taking a few steps back. It almost seemed like he was avoiding the closeness. “Now attack me and defend.” He orders. You lunge forward —jabbing left, right,left,right. He blocks every punch effortlessly, guarding his face. He dodges, dipping low and charging at you. His arms wrap around your thighs hoisting you up. Your fingers interlock beating down on his back, trying to break his iron grip. He stumbles, arms loosening just enough to break free. Your feet hit the ground, König grunts as your fist connects clean with his jaw. “Uhn that one actually hurt…good job.” He waves a hand of surrender while rubbing his cheek through the mask. You run over to help. “Are you alright I’m so sorry-“ his hand shoots out, snatching your arm, spinning you. His solid arm tightens around your neck trapping you in a chokehold. His breathing is shallow, body tensing as your ass presses against him. You reach up and caress his forearm. He hadn’t realized just how small you were compared to him till now, his body engulfed the entirety of your frame. He notes how perfectly you fit in his arms and how easy it’d be to break you. Your head rests just below his pecs, the smell of your hair product wafts up his mask, he inhales the sweet scent. His bicep flexes, tightening his grip, your eyes flutter and a quiet moan falls from your lips. You loved that light headed airy feeling of being choked.

“N-never let your guard down.” He let’s go, gently pushing you away, putting a giant gap between the two of you. “Even if you think someone is done, be prepared to attack…” he trails off getting distracted by how sexy you look after an intense workout. How fast your breathing is, how your hair is messy with sweat, how your lips part as you catch your breath. He wanted to be the one to work you out.

“Oh whatever you cheated .” You laugh squatting down as you catch your breath. König crouches, grabbing his flask from the ground. His large, veiny hands twist the top off in one swipe. Unconsciously, he lifts the bottom of his mask to drink, showing you a glimpse of the lower half of his face. His jaw tenses, a trickle of water spills down his chin as he swallows. His adams apple bobs with each gulp. You gawk at the scene in front of you, thinking it has to be a daydream.

“Water?” He holds the flask to you.

“S-sure.” You ease to a sitting position on your knees reaching for the bottle. You stare at the rim that just grazed his lips. Does this count as an indirect kiss? You think. He watches you place your lips in the exact spot he’d drank from, flushed with excitement. He wonders if your lips were as soft as he imagined they’d be. How they’d feel melding with his…how they’d feel wrapped around his dick. He doesn’t dwell on it too long, knowing that would never happen and that you didn’t see him that way.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, looking at you with big green eyes.

“Sergeant told the cafeteria to only feed me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, so I haven’t eaten anything of value.” Your stomach grumbles on que.

“You must have really gotten on his bad side huh?” He offers you a hand,helping you to your feet.

“Unfortunately.” You dust off your pants and begin collecting your belongings.

“Since we wrapped up a bit early, how about I take you somewhere you can get real food.” He offers, packing his duffle bag.

“You know how tight ghost keeps the kitchen locked up…” you say with an annoyed tone.

“Who said anything about the kitchen?” His voice sounds mischievous.

“You don’t mean-?” You shake your head, stuffing your hat and jacket in the bag.

“Come on, he’ll never know I’ve worked with him long enough to know his blind spots.” He tilts his head expressively.

“Fine but if we get caught, you ordered me to go.” You hike your bag onto your shoulder, walking past him. He smiles behind you.

~

“Puedo pedir dos margaritas?(may I have two margaritas) Sí…un bistec nacho y un burrito de pollo(one steak nacho and one chicken burrito)Eso es todo, gracias(that's all thank you).” He says expertly, the waiter nods thanking you before going to pin the order up.

“Wow I’ve been deployed here longer than you and my Spanish is still choppy.” You toy with some lime slices on the table to keep yourself busy. König watches you closely, an amused look in his eye.

“I can speak a few languages but I’m not good at them all.” He looks you up and down, the lights from the club area illuminates your skin. Your hair is pulled in a now messy bun. Cute strands stick out from your training session. He is especially drawn to your lips, the way you lick and nibble your bottom lip when you’re nervous. His eyes dart away when you feel his gaze lingering and look up.

“What other languages do you speak?” You stare out into the dance floor, watching the locals swing and jump to the music. They looked carefree and happy, it’d been so long since you’ve felt good or even had a good time. Ghost saw a lot of potential in you so he stayed on your ass 24/7. Tough love is what he liked to call it.

“German is my first language.” He reveals.

“German? That’s so cool , say something in German.” He chuckles at your excitement.

“Ich möchte dich über diesen Tisch beugen und dich dazu bringen, mich ganz zu nehmen (I want to bend you over this table and make you take all of me)” he leans forward, green eyes boring into you as he says this,making sure you can hear him over the music. You had no idea what he just said but it made your thighs clench under the table.

“W-what does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you one day.” He shrugs. You toss a lime, it smacks his vest with a small thud.

“I thought friends don’t keep things from eachother.” You tease. The server brings out two large glasses with salted rims, there was no way you could finish this entire thing. He places the margaritas on either side of the table along with straws. König tears open his straw taking a long pull from his drink.

“Whoa it’s strong.” The fruity syrup barely covered the 3 shots of liquor . You indulge, sucking a mouth full of the frozen drink. It tastes strongly of strawberry slushie and tequila, the salted rim balances all the flavors with a sour finish. The alcohol must have been hitting him pretty fast because all he could imagine is him being that straw. How good the inside of your mouth must taste and feel.

“You’re right…I see why everyone is having such a good time.” You joke, taking another sip. A hearty laugh rumbles in his chest, he loved the way you always spoke your mind. It’s one of the qualities that always got you in trouble with ghost. Nothing made him laugh more than watching you stress ghost out with your witty personality.

“I guess we’d better join the party.” He raises his glass for a toast before chugging half.

The server brings out hot plates of food, everything looked and smelled amazing. Your stomach growls at the sight of real food, the liquor (coupled with only eating sandwiches for a week) takes effect making you absolutely demolish your burrito. König shyly slips a few chips under his mask, he never ate around people since it usually required the mask to come off.

“This is soooo good.” You say having another bite.

“I love this place. I come here often.” He slides in another chip.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to leave base unauthorized or maybe that’s just me.” Ghost had a tendency of giving you extra rules for your troublesome rap sheet.

“We aren’t but if you don’t get caught, did it ever happen?” He laughs, taking the final sip of his drink.

“And they call me the troublemaker.” You say glancing at the dance floor again.

“Do you want to?” He asks.

“Want to what? Dance?…no I don’t uh I don’t dance.” You dismiss quickly.

“ I’ve seen you knock grown men out y/n, dancing can’t be much harder than that.”

“You know you’re much more social than usual.” You observe.

“Only when I’m with you.” He grabs your hand leading you to the crowd.

The music thumps with bass, shaking the ground beneath your feet. A sexy song plays through the huge speakers near the DJ station. People couple up, swaying their bodies to the beat. König slips an arm around your lower back pulling you close. You struggle to find the tempo, moving left to right awkwardly. He takes your hand, spinning you around. His eyes trace the line of your body before pulling you back into his chest. You giggle at how ridiculous you look compared to his smooth rhythm. Your foot slams down on his toe as you try to find the beat “I’m so sorry! I’m so bad at this maybe I should sit-“

“Let’s try this instead.” His knee forces your legs apart, giving him control of your movements. The feeling of his thigh pressed firmly against your heat makes your head spin.

“Follow my lead.” He commands.

His waist sways back and fourth, rocking your bodies in unison. You copy his actions, grinding your hips together, the grip on your waist tightens. The fabric of your pants rub creating friction between your legs, his cock reacts to the closeness, beating as if it was dancing along with them. finding the rhythm, your body starts to move on its own.

“Scheisse (Shit)” he groans as you turn around and twirl your ass on him. His head falls back as you start to swirl your hips down and back up slowly. His big hand slides over your stomach holding you as close as possible, his rock hard member strains through his thick camo pants. Your eyes close as you grind into him, his finger grazes the exposed skin peeking from under your shirt. He trails that same finger up your torso, between your breast and up your neck. His hand rests at the base of your throat keeping hold of you as your bodies whirl around the dance floor. He spins you back around to face him, for once he demands eye contact and you’re the one shying away. You stare at the floor, giant hands cup your face pulling you to meet his feverish gaze.

“Don’t look away from me.” König’s voice sounds different, More rugged. His shoulders hunch as he leans down to your height as he speaks. “Bitte komm mit mir nach Hause” he whispers in your ear.

“What’s that?”

“Please come home with me.” He breathes.

~

“How the hell did you convince Ghost to let you room by yourself ?” You ask, stepping past the threshold.

“ My social skills and big personality helped with that.” He jokes sarcastically. König wasn’t required to room with anyone thanks to his close connection to the sergeant, leaving the two of you completely alone in his quarters.

“Well I guess if you don’t talk much there isn’t much you could say to get in trouble.” You ponder.

“Yeah you should try it.” He chuckles at your shocked expression.

“Try what exactly?” You ask appalled , holding your chest dramatically.

“Not talking. That mouth of yours is dangerous.”

“Give me one example where I said something worth getting punished for.” Your arms cross.

“If I recall correctly you said and I quote ‘why would I listen to a dude named Simon?’ ” he says in a high pitch voice mimicking yours.

“First of all he wasn’t supposed to hear that, wrong place at the wrong time on his part and secondly Simon is a funny name, the jokes practically write themselves.” He pauses for a second before doubling over with laughter.

His keys clatter on the kitchen counter as he wipes his tears of laughter away. You set your bags near the couch and sway on your heels nervously, unsure whether to sit or stand. Strong hands settle on your shoulders working away the tension you’ve been holding for god knows how long. Your head rolls back into his touch, he kneads your muscles like dough relieving any and all stress. “That feels so good, König.” You groan, closing your eyes.

“Come with me.” He grasps your hand leading you down a hall , stopping at a closed door. He twists the knob revealing a very plain bedroom, a queen sized bed with black sheets, a desk, and stacks of paperwork are all that decorate the space. There are two extra doors, one leading to the closet and the other to the bathroom. You laugh at his clumsiness. He’s clearly tipsy as he staggers to the door.

He slips his gloves off and opens the cabinet below the sink, rummaging around and pulling things out onto the bathroom floor. Finally, he emerges with a pink topped bottle. “Baby oil” the label reads.

“Strip.” He says, unbuckling his bulletproof vest and laying it on the desk chair.

“S-strip?”

“Yes, so I can massage you. That is what you want isn’t it?” He removes his thick camouflage jacket revealing the snug black material of his undershirt.

His muscles bulge veiny and tight, stretching the fabric. It was true, you did want his hands all over you. Ever since you two started training together, you found yourself fantasizing about being split by that monster of a man. Your hands fumble with the buckle of your pants as you kick your boots off. He advances, towering a wapping 6'6”. You shift with anticipation, looking up at him with gleaming eyes. The tips of his fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, swiping it over your head. Your scrunchie is taken along with it, freeing your hair (for my fellow natural haired girlies let’s just say you have braids or a wig). If you’d known you’d be stripping for someone tonight, you would have picked sexier underwear. He’s silent as he takes in how perfect you look in your plain gray and white bra/pantie combo.

“Lay on the bed.” He instructs unscrewing the baby oil top.

You listen, climbing up into the comfy cotton sheets, using your arms as pillows. He’s flustered at how obedient you are, since that wasn’t a side of you he’d seen before. The military couldn’t break you…but he would. He stands at the side of the bed admiring every dip and curve of your figure. Flipping the bottle upside down, Slick cool oil slides down your back. His thumbs rub circles along your spine, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. His long fingers slip under your bra strap, he huffs in frustration.

“In the way-“ he unclasps it skillfully. Your face is burning with embarrassment, there was no way you were laying in Königs bed half naked. A shiver runs down your leg as he slides down the elastic waist of your panties. He begins working and kneading your lower back, squeezing the plush skin of your ass. The crotch of your panties were soaked, leaving a huge wet spot on the gray fabric. He inhales, your arousal was palatable, his dick pulsates at the scent of your glistening womanhood. Your panties glide down over your ankles as he slides them off, tossing them into the corner.

“Flip over.” He grunts, tossing you around.

Your breast fall from the unclamped bra, hard nipples on full display. König doesn’t hesitate yanking and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“On your knees.” His voice is breathy and low.

your eyes stay on him as you shift onto your knees, hands holding your chest shyly. Gently he pulls them away, slipping the straps down and off your arms. Because of his height, you’re at perfect eye level with his throbbing erection. His breath hitches as your elegant fingers undo the zipper of his pants, his earthy green eyes flutter. His big hand cradles your cheek as he watches you work to release him from the shackles of those annoying pants. His cock burst free, slapping his lower stomach. Although you couldn’t see his face, the state of his arousal was evident. Veins root from base to tip, beating rhythmically along the upward curve of his sex. His tip is blushed and oozing with pre-cum, his breathing accelerates with need. You run your tongue up the length of his rock hard shaft, he grunts head lolling back. Your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing him before opening nice and wide.

“Scheiße (Fuck)” he pants, caressing your cheek pulling your warm wet mouth down on his cock. It was even better than he’s imagined, his hand sets the pace rocking your head back and forth. Tears prick your eyes as he begins moving faster, fucking your throat. Each thrust deeper than the last, his hand moves to the base of your neck feeling how deep you can swallow him.

“You look so fucking pretty sucking my cock.” He wipes a stray tear with his thumb.

You gag as he pushes further, your throat muscles contract around him before he pulls back.

“Oh naughty naughty girl. You almost made me cum.” He teases, lightly pushing you back onto the bed. The mattress creaks from his massive size as he climbs between your legs, peering down at you. Your hand reaches under the mask, he firmly grips your wrist forcing it to the bed.

“Ask nicely.” He orders.

“Can I touch you…please.” You beg.

He releases your hand, it finds the bottom of the mask, sliding underneath to find the stubble of a 5 o'clock shadow and soft lips. Your finger strokes his lower lip, it is plump and warm.suddenly, his mouth opens nipping and sucking the skin of your curious finger. “Ah what are you-“ you moan arching your back. Pushing your hand away once more, he leans down, capturing your parted lips. Your lips dance in perfect harmony, melting into one another. He moans into your mouth, his jaw tenses as your tongue pushes through savoring the flavor that is König. The head of his dick pokes at your slippery slit begging for entry, you can feel how hot he is all over causing your temperature to rise.

“Open up for me, I’m gonna give you everything I have.” He groans, plunging inside with a flick of his hips. Your hands claw at the smooth skin of his back as you stretch around him, his girth almost too much to handle. You cry out as he thrust deeper “Just alittle more baby, you’re taking me so well…s’good s’fucking good.” He pants filling you to the brim. He stays still for a moment letting you adjust to his large size, the pressure in your pussy nearly makes you cum right then and there.

“I feel you twitching around me princess, you can’t cum yet, I’m not done breaking you.” He pulls back before slamming back in, hitting the back of your cervix with each thrust. There is a delicious ache in your belly as he impales you, the curve of his dick reaches places you didn’t even know existed.

“Ah ah s’to big I-I can’t I can’t.” You cry biting the skin of his chest to hold back your screams.

“You’re gonna take what…I…give…you.” He pounds with each word. He sits up pushing your knees to your chest forcing even deeper inside your velvety walls. This position gives him access to your stiff wet bud. With two fingers he spreads your creamy folds watching his dick pump in and out of you. Every thrust his cock emerges more coated than the last.

“Your pussy is so fucking gorgeous , look at that needy little clit.” He flicks your bud, rutting into you with all his strength. His long fingers grab your throat, your tongue lols out as he chokes you. He alternates the pressure taking you up and gently bringing you back down. “That pretty mouth isn’t so dangerous now.” Your quivering walls clench around him threatening to overflow.

“P-please I’m gonna…ah!” He pulls out, gripping your waist as he throws you around, roughly raising your ass to him. Before you can register the change he splits you apart once again, slapping your plush ass, leaving hot hand prints on your skin. Those giant hands push and pull you back on his cock, using your pussy to make himself cum.

“You have such a cute tummy.” He reaches around pressing on your lower belly feeling how full it is with his cock.

“You would make such a pretty mommy.” He praises fucking you faster and harder. That throws you over the edge, your body convulses and clamps down icing his dick with your sweetness.

His teeth clench with an inhuman growl as his rod twitches and throbs before shooting your insides with his hot seed.

~

“Late again huh, rookie? That’s an extra week.” You jump, turning around. Ghost stands over you. It was true last night’s events made it impossible to wake up at 5 am with the other soldiers. You ended up sneaking out of Königs bed in the middle of the night, hoping you could sneak back into your barracks undetected. The mission was success. You slipped into your bed at 2 a.m before anyone could realize you were gone. Unfortunately, that means you overslept, waking up three hours late.

“I was…sick.” You lie scrubbing the bathroom tiles diligently.

“Sick? You were fine yesterday.” He says with a flat tone.

“Must have eaten something bad, all those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches must have taken a toll.” You grunt, rubbing your stomach.

“Next time you’re sick. You report it to me in advance.” He orders.

“How can I predict when I’m gonna be sick?-“

“Don’t question me.” He spins on his heels walking out the bathroom.

“Okay Simon.” You mock.

“What was that rookie?” He calls back.

“Nothing Sargeant!” You exclaim.

He walks away finally, leaving you with the smell of bleach and toilet water. Your arms ache from scrubbing. throwing the sponge in the bucket of cleaning solution, you sit back against the wall thinking about last night. All morning you avoided seeing König, ducking and dodging him in the halls. Every time you thought of him, your face burned with embarrassment, there is no way you could look him in the eye after that. For now your plan is to just lay low in hopes he was too drunk to remember anything. It was nothing. Just a drunken one night stand.

“There you are.” He charges forward looking down at you.

“H-here I am whats up König…do you need a copy of that report-“

“Why did you sneak out last night.” He interrupts.

“Psh me? Sneak out I didn’t sneak out. I just went for a walk…and ended up in my bed.” You reach into the bucket with gloved hands wringing the sponge out.

“Why couldn’t we sleep together?” He asks.

You fly to your feet in a panic “Shhh! What if someone hears you?”

“So what?” He tilts his head in confusion.

“Superior and subordinate relationships are strictly prohibited!” You whisper/yell.

“Right…hm, okay in here then.” He takes your hand leading you into the stall furthest from the door, The lock clicks behind you.

“Can’t this wait till after hours.” You say with an annoyed tone.

“I want an explanation.” His arm rests on the wall above your head.

“This. This is why I snuck off, to avoid whatever this is. Now I’m stuck in a bathroom stall talking about…feelings.” You hold your stomach making a pained face.

“This isn’t funny.” His voice is low.

“You’re right it isn’t but it is complicated .”

“Y/n? You in here?” A voice calls.

You mouth shit, covering what you assumed was his mouth through the mask.

“Yeah! I was just cleaning!” You call back.

“Who were you talking too?” She asks her foot steps advancing.

“No one! Here I come!” You let him go squinting your eyes.

“This isn’t over.” He whispers sharply, moving to the side.

“I can see that.” You grumble walking out the stall to greet your friend.

…to be continued?

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ COCONUT LOUNGE ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Where ENA Takes You On A Chaotic Date To The Purge Event

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ It’s her idea, of course. ENA shows up at your door looking like she’s already been through three existential crises and one team-building exercise — suspenders askew, one sock pulled up to her thigh, the other missing entirely. “Let’s invest in an evening of cathartic destruction!” she announces, slapping a folded, bloody-looking Purge Event pamphlet into your hand like it’s a business proposal. “This date will be categorically unforgettable.” You blink twice, and somehow, you’re already in the back of a clown-driven taxi with her.

☆ As soon as you step into the Purge Event, ENA instantly splits into her two modes: Salesperson cheerily narrating like a demented tour guide, and Meanie yelling at random strangers. “Witness the primal urge for chaos!” she beams, then immediately turns and screams, “MOVE YOUR FACE, JACKBUTT!!” at a confused pedestrian. You cling to her arm through it all, half-horrified, half-enamored.

☆ She buys you a souvenir — a cracked megaphone labeled “SCREAM FREE ZONE” — by bartering with a vendor using an imaginary currency she calls soul stocks. “Inflation is a mind-killer,” ENA solemnly tells you, stuffing a bag of coal in your hands. “H-hold onto this. It’s, uh, sentimental.” You don’t have the heart to point out it’s probably cursed.

☆ At one point, she tries to romantically throw you into a mosh pit of screaming unintelligible beings while shouting, “LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIP BUILDING!!” and it ends with her getting elbowed in the forehead. She stands up looking cross-eyed, then grins a little too wide. “That’s what I call a headfirst investment opportunity,” she says, before dramatically fainting into your arms.

☆ Halfway through, ENA spots the rotating megaphones underneath the flashing floor tiles and becomes philosophical. She holds your hand tightly, eyes reflecting the rotating lights. “Y-you know,” she stammers, her Meanie side briefly showing cracks, “we’re all just megaphones…screaming into the dark…hoping someone will echo back.” You squeeze her mitten-hand, and she gives you a broken smile like you’ve just signed a lifetime contract with her heart.

☆ She insists you both join a ‘Destruction Booth,’ where you can smash porcelain vases labeled Bad Memories. ENA throws herself into the task with such terrifying enthusiasm that you end up half-heartedly breaking plates just to keep up. “DESTROY YOUR INNER LIMITATIONS! BUST OPEN YOUR DESPAIR!!” she bellows, shattering five at once with her claw-hand. You accidentally break a teacup and she immediately cheers like you saved the universe.

☆ You lose her for a few minutes in the crowd — panic sets in — until you hear her loudly pitching a “limited-time emotional warranty” to a cluster of crying party-goers. She sees you running toward her and immediately brightens, arms flailing. “Oh, thank GØD, you’re back! I was about to offer a two-for-one tragedy discount!” she beams, slamming her whole body against yours in a messy hug.

☆ While navigating the maze of debris, ENA’s Meanie side suddenly snaps at you, voice cracking: “I-I’M NOT GOOD AT THIS! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS STUPID ‘DATE’ THING!!” Her mitten-hand trembles at her side. She looks so ashamed that you quickly take her hand and tell her it’s the best date you’ve ever been on. Her cheeks flush patchy red and yellow, and she mutters, “Y-you’re lying…but I’ll accept your deception.”

☆ She finds a broken-down stage and insists on giving you a “performance.” Standing under the blood-raining megaphones, ENA sings an off-key ballad about “divesting pain and achieving optimum love synergy,” twirling dramatically until she trips over her own foot. She lies there, covered in coal dust, arms flopped wide, grinning up at you like you’re the whole sun.

☆ At the end of the night, after escaping a firework stampede and narrowly avoiding getting flattened by a “Purge Parade Float,” ENA drags you to a crumbling overlook where the whole Purge Event sprawls below. She leans against you, messy, cracked, and still smiling. “This was the best catastrophic investment I’ve ever made,” she says quietly. You kiss her hair and watch the neon-lit ruins burn together.

[narcissisticmf]

jumped | kaz brekker x fem!reader

description: y/n is out one night getting supplies for the black veil and on her way back, she gets mugged. when she returns to the tomb, everyone is concerned.

trigger warnings: graphic violence, assault, descriptions of minor injuries, blood, angst, seductive behavior, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: 2.6k

Rain tapped against the cobblestones as you made your way back to the gondel. Its rope was tied to the docks, securing its place. A cloak was draped over your shoulders as the hood was pulled over your head, concealing your face from potential threats.

In your grasp, you carried a large paper bag that was filled with canned goods and other essentials the tomb was lacking. Each week, you rotated with the other Crows who would go out and retrieve supplies. You didn't mind going out, but it was dangerous to do so under the circumstances.

As you placed the filled bag gently into the gondel, you stood up straight and reached for the rope that was tied to the dock. Your hand froze as you heard several heavy footsteps coming from behind you.

You swore under your breath and reached inside your cloak to the bow and arrows that were concealed perfectly. You made haste with pulling your weapons out. You drew an arrow into your bow and pulled back with precision as you turned your whole body in the sound of the direction of the footsteps.

The rain continued to fall and the subtle haze that formed across the docks blurred your vision. The sun was already setting and the torches that lit the town were burning out from the rapid fall of rain.

Your lips parted just slightly as you controlled your breath. Your eyes flickered to the left as you heard the footsteps approach closer. Your heartbeat was steady, unafraid and unyielding.

A dark shadow was casted in front of you on the docks. You couldn't make out the face, but you had a gut feeling that whomever the person had been was not approaching for casual conversation.

As a way of warning, you released your grip onto the bow and shot an arrow clean past the person's right ear. To your dismay, they did not slow down nor turn around. You released a soft grunt of frustration and drew back another arrow.

"Whomever you are, leave now," You spoke with pure authority, not once did your voice waver. They continued stepping forward and reached into their jacket to pull out a freshly sharpened knife. Your eyes glanced at the weapon. You swallowed thickly and aimed your arrow, not at them, but at their hand which held a tight grip on the knife. "Leave now," You spoke through gritted teeth. "I promise I won't miss this time.. if you choose not to walk away."

Your threats didn't seem to make much of a difference to the body before you. You lifted your gaze to their dark hooded eyes. The haze from the rain didn't make it easy to tell who they were, but it didn't seem to matter in the moment.

Swiftly, the person before you charged forth with the knife gripped tightly in their hand. You dodged the strike by bending forward and getting behind them. You held your arrow out and shot at their leg. It struck them in the calf as you smirked at the grunt that left their lips. It sounded like a man, but you weren't too sure.

They reached down their left and ripped the arrow from their fresh, bloody wound. Snapping the arrow in half, they stood and rushed towards you again, pinning you to the slick, wet ground. Shocked by the sudden drop, you breathed quickly for a few moments before reaching up with a free hand to punch them square in the nose. They staggered off of you and held their gushing, bloody nose.

You quickly went for the gondel as they were distracted, and hopefully a little delirious. You untied the ropes and hopped into the boat, ready to make your way back to the tomb. You let out a harsh, guttural scream as a wave of sharp pain filled your right shoulder. You looked back to see the person standing there with empty hands. You lowered your gaze to the knife that was lodged into your shoulder, deep and painful.

You winced and made a horrible attempt at rowing with your non-dominant arm. Blood was seeping from your shoulder and soaking your cloak. The metallic smell filled your nostrils. Stains of the thick red liquid soaked into the bottom of the boat and on the paper bag that was filled with supplies for the tomb.

.

Grunting in pain, you pulled the gondel up onto the wet ground and tied it with your left hand to a tree nearby the water. You winced as you leaned into the boat to grab the paper bag and stumbled towards the tomb. Your vision blurred with black dots as you walked through the cemetery, the rain still pouring ferociously.

Eventually, you made it to the tomb (you weren't even sure how you managed it, but you did). You carelessly dropped the bag onto the table and grunted. Your breathing was harsh. Wylan, Jesper and Matthias were seated on the couch as you made your way in. You removed your hood off your head and turned to see a trail of blood you left behind stepping inside. The three of them stood up and walked towards you.

"What the hell happened?" Jesper asked, dragging out each word.

"Are you okay?" Matthias asked.

"Sit down, Y/N," Wylan suggested as he pulled a chair out for you.

They didn't seem to have noticed the knife protruding from your shoulder until the moment you sat down. You winced in pain, tightening your jaw.

"Oh shit," Jesper murmured.

"Can one of you three idiots get Nina?!" You hadn't meant to raise your voice, but you were in such pain you weren't in full control over your actions.

"Right!" Wylan left to find Nina somewhere in the tomb.

Eventually, Kaz appeared with a locked jaw and sharp eyes. If he was concerned, he didn't appear to be. He was good at concealing his emotions.

"What happened?" He questioned as he came around the table to look at you directly.

"Well, I went into town to get supplies," You replied and held your arm tightly, starting to see more and more black dots in your vision.

"I got her!" Wylan pronounced as he came back to the room with both Nina and Inej.

"Oh Saints.." Nina whispered and stared at you in the chair with the knife through your shoulder.

"Hello to you too," You gritted as Nina pulled a chair to sit before you. She got to work quickly, but kept careful with every motion she made.

"I'm still waiting for a legitimate answer," Kaz stated with an irritant tone.

"Okay," You exhaled, "I was on my way back to the gondel when someone was coming from behind me." You explained, "I shot a warning at them, but they didn't stop. At one point, they pinned me down so I think I broke their nose and then I made a run for it to get to the boat and as I was making my miserable getaway, they threw the knife at me."

Nina successfully removed the knife and wasted no time in covering it. You hissed when she cleaned the wound with aged whiskey. You sighed after the wound was clothed in the protectant guaze.

"Thanks, Nina," You whispered.

"You lost a lot of blood, you should rest," She pulled her lips into a tight, thin smile.

"From now on, we get supplies in pairs," Kaz announced to no one in particular. "I don't want anything like this to happen again." And then, he was gone.

.

Inside a small room, you attempted to fill a copper tub with boiled water to wash away the dirt and blood that coated your body. Your cloak had nearly been ruined, but Inej reassured you that she would try and patch it up. As you used your uninjured arm to pour the water into the tub, you hissed feeling the strain against your right shoulder.

"Need help?" Kaz entered the room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His cane was nowhere in sight.

"Uhm, yeah," You whispered. You almost didn't hear yourself speak.

Kaz pushed himself off the wall and helped you pour the water into the copper tub. It took a bit more time to fill the tub than you would've liked. You stared at Kaz's profile as he continued pouring in the water.

"Enjoying the view?" Kaz questioned without breaking into a smile. You didn't respond, instead you merely continued gazing. "I charge twenty kruge for a show, but I can give you a minor discount," He finally met your gaze and swallowed thickly.

"Kaz Brekker making flirtatious jokes? Somebody must write this down," Your lips formed a small grin.

Kaz's lips curved upward into a slight smile. With the others, he was always stoic but around you there were moments when Kaz could relax. His shoulders eased just a bit and his furrowed brows released the tension.

"Are you well?" You asked in the comfortable stillness.

"You just got knifed in the shoulder and you're asking me if I'm well?" Kaz questioned, staring at you intently.

"I believe that was my question, yes," You nodded.

Kaz broke the eye contact and went to pour more water into the tub when it was finished boiling. He didn't entertain your question with a response, instead he continued filling the tub.

"I'm still waiting for a legitimate answer," You stood slightly up on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear the same thing he said to you not too long ago.

"I'm well," He replied with amusement in his gaze as he looked at you.

"Good," You whispered and stepped back away from him for a moment. The tub was nearly full so you started to unbutton your pants. Kaz wasn't looking, but you got the sense that he could see everything from where he stood. He had his jaw clenched, almost as if he were fighting his inner thoughts.

"Can I help?" He didn't look at you when he asked. He could see you struggling due to your injured arm.

Your breath caught in your throat as you blinked and looked up to him. "Sure," You nodded and then added, "Please."

Kaz placed the pot of water back down and walked towards you. You gazed at him as your palms began to produce a thin layer of sweat. He removed his gloves and placed them on the small table beside you. You looked up to his face, but his gaze was locked downward, as his hands moved to the button of your pants. He unclasped it effortlessly and, only then, did he raise his eyes to look into yours.

There was silence for a long while. At least, it felt like a long while.

"Thank you," You whispered.

Kaz didn't respond to your gratitude and inside nodded once with a mere dip of his chin. You weren't sure if it was because of how close the two of you stood, but you could almost hear the rapid thumping of his heart.. or maybe it was your heart.

He stepped back one step and swallowed, "Is that enough water?"

You turned your eyes to the copper tub and nodded mindlessly, completely forgetting about the bath you planned to take.

"Yes," You nodded.

"Okay," Kaz bowed his head once. "Then, I'll be on my way. You'll rest afterwards?"

You nodded softly, not trusting your own voice.

"Good," He turned and headed for the doorway, but you reached out to grasp his wrist. Kaz met your eyes again with a question in them that needed no words.

"Stay," You exhaled. "Stay with me, please." You weren't sure if your voice was shaking or if your body was shaking, but frankly you didn't seem to care in the moment. "I don't want to be alone," You stated once you trusted your voice again.

Kaz looked as though he might've been contemplating and, eventually, he slowly nodded. You sighed contently and began to remove your clothing. It didn't seem to phase either of you, but something in the room was different. You looked up to Kaz when you couldn't quite shimmy out of your top.

He stepped forward and assisted you in removing the top. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked at Kaz. His gaze was hard, yet soft. He looked as though he could devour you in that very moment, but something had a strong grip on him. His pride, perhaps, you thought.

Kaz helped you out of the rest of you garments and assisted you into the bubbly and soapy tub. The water was warm against your greasy and dirt-covered skin. Kaz pulled a chair out to sit beside the tub, letting his bad leg stretch out. It must've felt relieving to be able to take the weight off it for a while, since he hadn't come in with his cane.

"Thank you," You whispered and leaned your head back against the tub.

He nodded again, gazing at you with both admiration and hunger. You couldn't quite differentiate the two; not that they were all that much different anyway.

You made sure not to get your wrapped arm wet as you reached for a bar of soap to clean your hair with.

"Allow me," Kaz spoke softly as he reached for the soap. You nodded with a small smile and turned so that he could easily wash your hair. His hands were perfectly pale and they felt nice as he massaged your scalp and scrubbed the soap in between the strands.

"Perhaps, if the thug life doesn't suit you forever, you might think of becoming a barber," You smiled as you head was leaned back against the tub.

"I will take it into consideration," Kaz grinned, you could hear it in his voice as your eyes were closed.

Silence stirred in the room. The only sound came from Kaz rinsing your hair after washing it. You sat there for a while, until the water ran cold.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Kaz whispered. "I should've been there."

"What?" You turned to face him, your chest covered by all the bubbles. Kaz looked at you with a nervous and uneasy gaze. "Kaz, there isn't anything you or anyone else could've done."

"I could've helped you," He replied, almost sadly.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" You asked and reached your good arm over to gently grasp his ungloved hand. They were warm and soft. You stared at your hands for a moment and breathed deeply. Kaz must've been feeling the same way because his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"I don't want anything like this to happen again," He repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was in a whisper. Kaz leaned closer to you as you stared at him with a beautiful gaze.

You gently squeezed his hand as his lips found yours. It was a kiss filled with longing and passion, but it was soft. He tasted of smoke and pinewood. You leaned your head back gently a little bit as his other hand cupped your face.

Slowly, you pulled back and felt your cheeks warm with heat. Kaz stared at you lovingly.

"So," You whispered, "are you gonna come join me?" Your eyes were filled with mischief as you gently grazed your fingers across the surface of the water.

Kaz smiled, coyly, in response and shrugged off his coat.

.

a/n: SO i just started reading six of crows, i'm half way through crooked kingdom and i'm in LOVE dude. i need to watch the show when i finish with the book. i hope you guys like this and that was okayish?? i'm kinda proud of it! if you want more six of crows stuff, PLEASE let me know!! ily guys so much!! mwah! <3 — angelina.

[dragonsfictavern]

Reminiscent Nightmares

Astarion Ancunin x Durge!Reader

a/n: I am consumed with soft wordless sex. Total physical communication showcasing a couples intimate knowledge of each other. I love I love I love.

summary: After a nightmare of past pains you’ve inflicted, Astarion is right there to comfort you. While you feel as though you can’t talk about it, Astarion will be there for you in other ways until you can. He will always be there for you.

warning: MDNI +18 make outs, groping, soft p in v sex, clitoral stimulation. Nice and simple.

word count: 2K

Your brows furrow, shaking your head, even as you lay in a deep sleep. Squirming around in your bed a whimper escapes you as visions— no memories, whirl through your mind in a torturous loop. Pools of blood come in waves, crashing against the walls and flooding the vision of your dream. Endless faces pass the view of your eye, being presented with them all before they fall off to the side and another takes its place.

Kill after kill you’re reminded of every single one. Your mind not allowing you to forget about a second of the pain you inflicted on others. An unending stream of the damage you caused and the torture you brought upon others. All of it now coming back to you.

By the time you’ve gone through them all, you’re whimpering, tears streaming down your cheeks even though you remain asleep. Just when you think it’s over, when all is done, when you’ll finally be able to gain some release… one more head slowly floats through the river of blood.

The head slowly comes to a stop and the face that greets you is none other than Astarion’s.

You scream and a second later Astarion is shaking you awake. Your eyes shoot open and scatter around as you try and take in your surroundings, your breath is heavy with panic, and you can’t stop squirming as you feel your skin crawl. The idea of Astarion being gone, and worse by your hand, haunts your every waking thought.

When Astarion gently cups your jaw, bringing your gaze to his, you cry out at the sight of him, more tears streaming down your cheek. Astarion shakes his head, quietly shushing you in hopes to calm you down. Your tears seem unable to stop as your eyes move over his every beautiful feature. Your hands reach up, taking his face in your hold. Thumbs rubbing over smooth cheeks. You feel him. He is here. He is unharmed.

Your eyes catch onto your hands and you know that he is safe. He is safe in your embrace. You aren’t like that anymore. You don’t do those things anymore. Neither of you do. Ever since everything ended and you’ve both settled into your new lives in Baldur’s Gate. You would never hurt him, not then nor now. While there were some close calls you have full control. You’re positive.

Nothing will ever harm him. Not you or anyone. You two will spend your days protecting each other from whatever threat may come your way. You’re a team. You continue rotating through those thoughts, filling your mind with them as you inhale and exhale deeply, meeting Astarion’s worried gaze once more. His free arm moves around your waist and he brings you impossibly closer. The feeling of his body against yours furthers your comfort.

With time you eventually calm down, your breath slowing down and the panic dissipating. When fully relaxed against his body, Astarion’s eyes furrow in a silent question. You blink back, not wanting to even think about it right now. Not wanting to think about anything. So you lightly shake your head at him and his features drop just as quickly as his question, understanding you immediately.

Instead he uses his hold in your jaw to gently guide your lips to his, continuing to provide you with closeness and comfort. You inhale sharply through your nose as your lips collide. A small moan escapes you as you lean into his touch, lips simply connecting for a moment. But you both easily fall into a gentle rhythm as your lips caress each other lovingly.

Astarion’s hand slides into your hair and he uses it to pull you in closer, groaning as his mouth devours yours. Both of you quickly become swept up in the easy dance of your mouth’s movements. You whimper, everything Astarion being the only thing you can focus on. The only thing you can think about.

When he slowly brings you back down on the bed, hand on the back of your head for extra cushion, you moan again, flicking your tongue along the seam of his lips. Astarion rolls on top of you, legs cradling your hips as he opens his mouth to you. You both grin as you take turns teasing each other with your tongues. His actions meant to distract and comfort and you weren’t ashamed to say they were working.

Astarion slowly works to undress you both, taking his time, savoring the taste of your tongue on his. Only separating when you have to and then his lips are crashing back down on yours. You moan, softly pulling him down once he’s finished, your body shuddering to feel his cold skin brush along the heat of yours. The contrast sending sparks up your spine.

Your body arches into his as you feel his hand slowly making its way down your form. The sensation of his mouth and hands continuing to drive all worrying thoughts out of your head. Astarion takes his time with you, wanting to feel every groove and curve that makes up your body. His hand slips between you both once he reaches your hips.

A hiss escapes him and you feel his breath ghost across your face. Your brows furrow and you whimper, hips jolting up, knowing his next movements precisely. A moment later you feel the crown of his cock parting your folds. Your eyes snap open only to meet Astarion already looking down at you. A soft expression on his face as he gages your reactions, always making sure you’re ok. You do the same, reaching a hand to touch his cheek. You bring his forehead to rest against yours, taking a moment to connect with him emotionally.

You gasp as he teases the hole of your sex and your heart skips a beat at the slight quirk of his mouth. Which only grows wider once he hears the way your pulse instinctively reacts to him. Your moans rip through the silence as Astarion pushes inside of you with ease. Your eyelids drop as you let out a whine, the feeling of him entering you has your body filling with warmth.

Astarion easily moves straight into a languid pace, his length gliding through your wet heat as he works you open, stuffing you full of him. Your hands slide into his hair, foreheads remaining connected as he thrusts inside you. Both of you maintaining eye contact. The intensity of emotion in his gaze takes your breath away. He wants to be here for you. To look after you. And though you may not be ready to talk, he is right here to comfort you.

Your nose nuzzles against his in a silence appreciation, your chest blooming with even more love and devotion for this man. Astarion grunts, a low rumble in his chest at your sign of affection, before picking up his pace only slightly. You sigh at the feeling of his cock massaging your walls, head falling back slightly as hips roll into yours. Soon your body falls into rhythm with his, pushing back against every pump into your core.

A soft cry leaves you as he hits your G-spot. Arms tightening around him, you’re desperate to feel him close. Astarion’s hands squeeze at your waist while his cock leisurely pumps its way inside you. He nips at your jaw gently, wanting your attention back on him. Your breath stutters as your hips meet once again in a quiet smack. Tilting your head up you meet his gaze and his lips are immediately connecting with yours, causing you to groan.

Heat swirls at the bottom of your belly as you feel your orgasm begin to grow. Your hands softly play with Astarion’s curls as you kiss. Your lips moving in tandem with the steady rhythm of his pulsing length. The feeling sends your heart racing and your skin tingling. An easy passion falls over you both like a thick cloud, blocking away the rest of the world and all that remains of you and Astarion.

You whimper against his lips, mind growing hazy as you’re lulled by his soft lips and the occasional nip of his fangs. Your nerves are on fire, your entire body prickling over as you savor each time he fills you. With the building pressure within you, you know you’re getting closer and closer to your climax. Astarion groans, feeling the way your muscles tense underneath him, feeling how your body radiates heat those moves through him and drives him with a need he’s only ever truly felt with you.

His hands caress your thighs, soothing out the slight twitching occurring as you find yourself just on the edge. Then a hand is moving to the apex of your thighs, his diligent fingers quickly finding your clit. Your jaw drops slightly and he uses this to his advantage, tongue slipping into your mouth to brush along yours. Your body jolts into his touch and you melt against the slow circles applied to your bundle of nerves.

It only takes a few more soothing strokes before your walls are fluttering around his cock and you’re falling off the edge, your release coating his cock. You moan loudly and Astarion swallows it all down, mouth latching down on your tongue and sucking lightly. Your body shudders in response, making the slight shaking of your body all the more worse as your orgasm moves through you in gripping shockwaves.

You clench down on Astarion, not even aware of your actions as your release consumes you. Astarion grunts, his stomach clenching and with a few stuttering thrusts, he sinks down inside you before spilling himself. Your eyes roll back into your head and you gently grind against him, milking him for every last drop.

Both of you rock into each other slowly, helping each other ride out your highs. Your kisses grow lazy, mouths smacking together, unable to stay away for longer than a few moments. Your eyes flutter as you desperately try and stay awake. Astarion watches you, his own eyes half-lidded, a storm of powerful emotions brewing in the depths of his red gaze. Yet you don’t back away from it, instead lulled into its embrace.

Astarion rolls you both onto your sides once you’ve both calmed down. He keeps you connected as he draws you tight against his chest. You breathe deeply, your body relaxed, contentment now coursing through you as you lay in Astarion’s arms. Both of you protected. Both of you safe. You slowly begin to fall asleep, grateful for your love and the way he flawlessly has come to understand you.

A moment later you feel a hand rest on the back of your head and your body jolts a bit, the touch waking you up more. Astarion shushes you gently, leaning in to press calming kisses across your brow. You hum and snuggle back in closer to him, accepting every kind of comfort he’s been giving you since your dream rousted you two up. It was only when he started to kiss your forehead did you realize you still remain partially tense. But with his lips on your skin your body completely melts into his and you fall into a dreamless sleep without issue.

Astarion stays by your side, not wanting to get up or move away from you. Watching over you as you rest and hoping the night passes by without anything else waking you. He knows you will talk to him once the morning comes. Share your concerns and let him be there for you in that way as well. He will always be there for you so long as you wish him and doesn’t mind having to prove so. Looking down at you and thinking this all through, he can’t help but lean in and nuzzle into your hair. He closes his eyes, for even if he won’t really sleep, he’ll bask in the act if it means lying with you.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Christmas Magic

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄

requested here! & inspired by Finding Santa (2017)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(event planner)!reader

Summary: Your Christmas charity dinner is threatened when Santa quits at the last minute. Tim Bradford is the only person you know who is free days before Christmas, but it will take some magic to make him agree to put on the suit.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, brief angst, quick mention of harassment, mistletoe and magic. 3.5k+ words.

I rented the center, tables with chairs are being delivered at noon, and catering arrives at 4. Got that. Santa, gifts, check, check.

You turn away from your computer to make a note about contacting the pediatrics hospital administrator. With your phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, you’d nearly forgotten that you were supposed to be listening to James, the older gentleman playing Santa at the fundraising event you’ve been planning since September.

“I’m so sorry to cancel on you last minute,” James says.

Barely managing to catch your phone as you jerk in shock, you repeat his words in your mind. “Cancel? James, I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve been fighting this rotator cuff for years and it finally won out on me. I know it’s last minute, but I can’t safely perform the Santa duties.”

“Okay, okay,” you mumble, pressing your forehead into your hand. “I understand, and I hope you feel better. I’m just not sure where I’m supposed to find another Santa days before the event, this close to Christmas.”

“If I hear of anybody who’s available, I’ll send ‘em your way.”

“Thanks.”

You end the call and stare at your computer screen. There is absolutely no way you can find someone – someone decent, at least – to play Santa Clause in three days. The event is on December 23rd, Christmas Eve-Eve, and it was hard enough to book James so close to Christmas Day.

“Oh, I’m gonna need a Christmas miracle,” you whisper as you reach for your mug.

A bell jingles outside, and you close your eyes. If only an angel capable of playing Santa were getting its wings.

“Are you okay?” your assistant, Holly, asks from the doorway.

“Not even a little bit,” you answer with a stressed smile. “We need a new Santa.”

“In less than a week?” she exclaims, setting a stack of papers on your desk. “How are you going to do that?”

“I have no idea. I could do open auditions, but then we’re just going to get all of the crazy people desperate for a Christmas gig in here, and I can’t sort through applications or anything with everything else going on,” you ramble before taking a breath. “Any chance you have a cousin, brother, dad, or a neighbor without a criminal record who could help me out?”

“My folks are traveling for the holidays and all of my neighbors are girls. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We just… we have to think of something. Preferably by the end of today.”

“If anyone can pull together some Christmas magic it’s you,” Holly assures. “I’ll go make some calls and let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Hols.”

As she leaves, you open your phone and scroll through your contacts. Each name makes you a little more discouraged. Most of them are busy with families, out of town, completely unqualified, or you haven’t spoken to them in so long that you can’t justify asking for something like this, even if it is for the kids.

“It’s all I want for Christmas,” you whisper as you near the end of your list.

One name jumps out at you, but you hesitate to contact him. He might have to work or be coming off of a hectic holiday shift on the 23rd. But you’re running out of options, so you text Tim Bradford to ask if he’s free. The phone rings a moment later, and you answer immediately.

“No, don’t- Chen!” Tim scolds.

“Uh, hello?” you greet.

“Hi!” a woman replies. “My name is Lucy Chen, I’m Tim’s rookie. You asked if he was free on the 23rd and I’m calling to say that he absolutely is.”

“Good, good,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip. “I actually have a really big – huge – favor to ask him, so maybe I’ll call him back later.”

“What is it?” Tim asks.

“Uhm,” you hum, trying to find the right words. “I need someone to play Santa at the charity event for the Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and UCLA’s pediatric department.”

“I… can’t,” Tim says after a moment.

“He means he won’t,” Lucy adds.

Your shoulders drop as you murmur, “Okay. Bye.”

After you hang up, you realize that Tim Bradford is your only chance. If he really won't do it, you either have to put a woman in the Santa suit and hope for the best or disappoint every child and parent in attendance by announcing at the last minute that Santa can’t make it. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, but at least the diner down the street has good hot chocolate that will help you get your mind off it for a few minutes. You wave at Holly on your way out, then try to think of exciting, merry, and bright things rather than the coming disappointment as you walk to your favorite diner. As you enter, you notice three men sitting in the booth closest to the door, but they’re the kind of men you know you wouldn’t invite to be in the same room with wealthy women or children, let alone both at the same time.

“Robbery in progress at Vicksen’s Diner,” dispatch alerts. “Callers report three armed men, and one is blocking the main entrance.”

“7-Adam-19 responding, code 3,” Tim radios before hitting the lights and sirens.

“Vixen’s Diner?” Lucy repeats. “They must really like Christmas.”

“V-i-c-k-s-e-n,” Tim corrects. “It’s the last name, the family has owned the place for decades. The call you intercepted earlier?”

“What about her?”

“She’s probably there. It’s her favorite place and they have Christmas specials right now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Focus, Chen,” Tim snaps as he turns the sirens off. “We’re approaching the rear exit without a sound, understood? Our priority is to get these people safe, then and only then do we go after the robbers.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy agrees.

“I don’t have any more cash,” the owner explains again. “It’s the twenty-first century, genius, most of our business is card or tap-to-pay.”

“And it’s Christmas,” you add from your booth. “Just go.”

“Not until I get something!” the man screams.

“How about a one-way trip to jail?” someone adds. “We already called the police.”

“Then pay up or they’ll have a body,” one of the other robbers says, turning their gun toward the customer.

Someone clicks their tongue, and you look over to see Tim Bradford and who you assume to be Lucy Chen standing behind the counter.

“LAPD,” Tim says. “Weapons down, hands up, or your Christmas is going to be even worse.”

The man closest to the counter tightens his grip on his gun, then curses and drops it as he raises his hands.

“I recommend you follow his lead,” Lucy tells the man beside you.

“Open the door,” Tim dares the final man. “My partner out there would love to lay you out.”

All three men surrender, and you watch Tim as he cuffs and zip-ties them while his rookie calls for backup.

“You said you had a partner out there!” the men complain.

“I lied,” Tim says as he stands. “You should know what it’s like.”

Three more patrol cars park outside, and officers take the would-be thieves out of the diner as Lucy checks on the owner and the other patrons. When Tim walks to your table, you lean back and look at him.

“I really need your help,” you explain. “It’s one night and you’d get paid.”

“It’s not about the money,” Tim replies. “Are you okay?”

“Then what is it about?” you press. “We both know you’re great with your nephews even if you hate to admit it. It’s only a few hours of asking kids what they want for Christmas, a few pictures, and then- then I’ll buy you dinner, whatever you want.”

“Why are you asking so close to the event?”

“Because I already had a Santa, but he tore his rotator cuff and backed out on me at the last minute. You know I wouldn’t ask something like this unless I really needed it.”

Tim nods, though he’s wondering why he is the one you’ve chosen to show your persistence and desperation to. Surely, you know other men capable of wearing an uncomfortable polyester suit and saying ho, ho, ho.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tim points out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. One of them pushed me out of the way, but-“

Tim moves closer to you and bends to look into your eyes. His gaze moves over your face before catching on the slightly red area against the side of your neck.

“You sure?” he whispers.

You nod and smile before you push past him to exit the booth. “I have to get back to work and find a Santa or break hundreds of hearts. Be safe, Tim.”

Tim watches you walk toward the door, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she gestures wildly toward you.

“I’ll do it,” Tim calls. He tells himself it’s because you’re so persistent and seem stressed, but deep down, he knows there is more to it than that.

“You don’t have to,” you say as you face him. “Don’t do something that’s going to make you miserable just because I need help.”

“I’ll do it,” he repeats. “Text me the details?”

“How ‘bout I just pick you up on the 23rd? Around noon?” you reply.

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you say with your hand on the door. “You’ll never know how much this means to everyone… to me.”

Tim nods as you leave to return to work, and Lucy claps silently.

“Get in the shop, boot,” he demands.

“You look nice,” you compliment when Tim opens his door the morning of the event. “The red suits you.”

Tim swallows as he looks at you and says, “You don’t have to butter me up, I already said yes.”

“I’m just calling it how I see it,” you assure him.

“I thought this thing didn’t start until 4,” Tim muses as he locks his door and follows you to the car.

“It doesn’t, but we have to get the Santa suit fitted. If you want to leave after and come back at 3, you can take my car.”

Tim shrugs and buckles his seat belt. When you turn the radio to a Christmas station, Tim immediately switches it to a football show. Your jaw drops as you turn toward him.

“You don’t like Christmas music?” you ask incredulously.

“I just don’t think it’s okay to give someone 23 birds,” he explains.

“My car,” you argue when he reaches for the control.

“My Santa debut,” he replies.

You give up and back out of his driveway with an exaggerated scoff.

“Why do you want me to be Santa anyway? I get that you had to ask people you know but I’m clearly not jolly enough.”

“Why is that?” you inquire. “I can understand not loving the music or the commercialism. The rest of it, though, that’s what I don’t get.”

“Just… don’t love the holidays. Reminds me of the things I don’t have anymore, I guess.”

Glancing at Tim, you wonder what it feels like to be someone’s for the holidays. Yes, it’s hard to be jolly when you miss someone, but for a moment, you wonder what it would be like to listen to carolers and decorate the tree while being in love.

“What’s this event like?” Tim asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “Been working on it long?”

“Since September,” you answer. “It’s geared toward the kids, but we have to do something to get the parents in too, so there’s raffles, a silent auction, dinner, and an area where they can sit with each other while someone else watches their kids.”

“So, it’s for donors?”

“At first,” you explain. “The donors are welcome to come anytime between 4 and 7. Then, we make everything absolutely perfect and bring in the kids from the hospitals at 8. They get more time with Santa, more gifts and games and treats. I know we have to raise a lot of money, but it’s not worth it if the kids don’t get to have fun with it too.”

“You’re really good at this,” Tim compliments, looking at you. “I didn’t know how much you put into all of this.”

“Now you regret saying no at first, huh?” you tease.

“That depends on how good the cookies are.”

“Then why are you so nervous?” you ask as you pull into the event center’s parking lot.

“I’m not-“

“It’s hidden well, but it’s there, Tim. You know you’re good with kids, so don’t let the size of this get to you.”

“I’ll try.”

“And if you get overwhelmed, Santa can always take a cookie break. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You wish Tim luck as you drop him off with the wardrobe designer you hired, then begin transforming the space into a winter wonderland.

“Are you okay?” Holly asks as you finish constructing the games for the children from the hospital.

“I came to ask the same,” Santa says from behind you.

You turn quickly and smile at the sight of Tim in the suit. His beard has been set aside while he takes a break, but something about seeing him this way feels right.

“I’m fine,” you assure them. “Rich people are hard to please, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody should get used to people screaming in their face because the caviar is room temperature,” Holly argues.

“Is that what it was about?” Tim asks with a humorless laugh.

“He got over it. I actually saw him eating the caviar later,” you say. “Besides, this is the part of the night I’m here for.”

“You’re an excellent Santa,” Holly tells Tim. “The kids went on and on about you.”

“Told you,” you sing song.

“Do I give gifts to every kid?” Tim asks you.

“Yes, give them as many as you want because we have more. The red candy cane paper is more girly gifts, blue snowflake paper is for boys, and the gingerbread paper is gender neutral,” you list. “The elves also have a list of what we have, so if a kid asks for something specific, someone can check for you.”

“You should’ve been a cop,” Tim muses. “I wish my boot could keep things this streamlined.”

“You need to get back to the Northpole,” Holly says, glancing at her watch. “Not that this isn’t adorable.”

“Tim,” you call as he walks away. “Thank you.”

“It’s the only thing you’re getting for Christmas!” he replies.

Holly smiles as she moves to your side, and you glare at her.

“A gorgeous man wrapped in a Santa suit,” she muses. “You got every girl’s dream gift.”

“He isn’t mine,” you remind her.

“Christmas seems like the perfect time to change that.”

“Excuse me?” a young girl asks.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling as you squat beside her. “What’s your name?”

“Sally,” she answers. “Will you go with me to see Santa?”

“Of course!” You offer your hand and lead Sally through the crowds of happy children and grateful parents to get in line to see Santa. “What are you asking for this year?”

“I want a Hug-Wave,” she says softly, wrapping both her hands around yours.

“What’s that?”

“It’s twin stuffed animals, and when you hug one, it sends a hug to the other. I want to give my brother one so I can send him hugs when I have to stay in the hospital. He’s coming to see me on Christmas, but I miss him.”

Your eyes tear up, and you smile at Sally as you move forward in line. “I’m sure Santa will bring you one,” you assure her. “Look, we’re next!”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Sally.”

As you walk onto the red carpet platform, Tim looks at you before looking at Sally. You mouth her name, and Tim calls, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, Sally!”

“You know my name?” she asks softly, stopping beside his knees.

“Santa knows all of the good boys’ and girls’ names, and you, Sally, are on my nice list!”

“Do you want to sit on his lap?” you ask Sally.

She nods but keeps her hand firmly in yours. You move to Tim’s side as he pulls her onto his leg and blink to get the tears out of your eyes as Sally tells Santa about the hugging stuffed animal she wants to stay close to her brother.

“I think you and your brother would love that, Sally,” Tim says. “I’ll tell my elves about your wish, and we’ll work on that.”

“Thank you, Santa,” Sally says before pulling her hand from yours and hugging Tim.

You wipe your face before taking Sally’s hand and leading her to pin the nose on Rudolph, where she plays with kids like she didn’t just tug your heartstrings. Turning to check on everything, you notice that the Santa chair is empty, and the elves are entertaining the children in line. Less than a minute later, Tim returns and continues to visit children and parents alike.

“Psst!” someone calls.

You furrow your brows as you turn, and when you see Lucy, your eyes widen in shock.

“Santa asked me to bring you this,” she whispers as she slips a large gift bag through the door. “Care to be an elf for me?”

“Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll take it to him now.”

“It looks amazing in here!”

“You’re welcome to stay, Lucy.”

You walk toward the North Pole area and tap an elf’s shoulder to take the gift to Tim. He excuses himself after the last child and walks to your side with the bag in his hand.

“Where’s Sally?” he whispers in your ear.

You look up at him and feel your tears building again as you say, “Tim–”

“I’m Santa tonight.”

You locate Sally sitting at a table with her parents and brother and eating a cupcake. Following behind Tim, you press your hand over your mouth as he kneels beside her and offers the bag. Her parents look at one another in shock as she removes the bears from the bag, then mouth their gratitude to Tim. Sally passes her brother a bear, and they begin hugging them to hug one another, and you decide this is the Christmas miracle you hoped to see.

Tim exits the small dressing room in the back hallway and doesn’t see you before you wrap your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his neck. “For being Santa and for giving Sally the gift.”

Tim tightens his arms around your waist before you pull back. “It’s the least I could do,” he deflects with a shrug.

“No, it isn’t,” you insist. “I talked to Sally’s parents. They can barely afford gas to go back and forth to work and the hospital right now because one of them has to stay with her full-time because of her treatment. That’s why her brother can’t visit much.”

“Is she…”

“The doctors are hopeful that her current treatment is working,” you assure him. “They’re expecting to send her home sometime in the spring if she continues improving. Tim, you made their entire year.”

“You deserve some of that credit.”

“You pulled off a Christmas miracle, it’s all yours.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me why you chose to ask me to be Santa?” Tim asks with a smile. His hands are still on your waist, but you’re dreading the moment when he steps back.

“Because I knew you could do it,” you answer. “You’re the only person I know that is kind and generous, selfless without letting people know it, and even if you get mad at me for saying it, you are kind and a big softie. You’re special, Tim Bradford, and a gentleman, and the closest thing I’ve seen to magical in a very long time. That’s why I asked and kept asking.”

“Well, you’re the closest thing I’ve seen to Mrs. Claus… ever,” he replies lightly.

“Without the time to bake and ‘Mrs.’ you mean.”

Tim shakes his head and asks, “Who helped you decorate?”

“Holly, mostly. Why?”

Lifting his chin, Tim gestures to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s tradition,” you begin.

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tim interrupts.

He moves a hand from your waist to your cheek and kisses you. It feels like fireworks, warm hot chocolate, and every good and magical thing you can think of all at once. You move your hands to Tim’s jaw and move together, then pull back to thank him again.

“Thank you for calling Lucy and getting Sally’s gift here so quickly.”

Tim’s brow pinches as he says, “I didn’t call Lucy. I thought you got the gift here for her?”

You shake your head, then ask, “Well if you didn’t order it, and I didn’t order it, which Santa asked Lucy to bring it?”

Tim hesitates before he says, “It couldn’t…”

“There you are!” Holly calls as she enters the hallway. “I could not find this entrance, geez. Oh, hey, mistletoe!”

“You didn’t put this up?” you ask her.

“Me? No, I don’t even know where to buy mistletoe. That made me sound so single.”

You look at Tim, who smiles and whispers, “Christmas magic,” as he leans in again.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write a Petrovna!reader & Tommy Shelby fic with a breeding kink / pregnancy. Much love 💞💞

Hope you enjoy! thanks for the request nonny🥰

warnings: pregnancy, breeding kink, mentions of season three storyline, reader is Tatiana’s sister, smuttt, rough sex, voyeurism, one face slap

After Tatiana’s message for him to visit her in Vienna Tommy sparked a flame with you as you stayed behind in Birmingham, tying up loose business ends on your aunt and uncle’s behalf. As far as their negotiations with the Shelby family, you wanted out. After seeing the contract between them, you were appalled in disbelief when the details stated the jewels being traded were the ones you owned. That was when you realized why they didn’t want you involved, trying to distract you, playing you off as an idiot.

Tommy assured you a life, children if you wanted, as long as you were to remain loyal, leaving your family behind. Unlike your sister, you weren’t mentally mind-fucking him  and after spying on you for a few months, Tommy never caught you in a lie, other than to your own people.

Currently you were seated in the pub, waiting on Tommy to arrive with the briefcase of your jewels as he had promised. He instructed the workers to be gone and close up early to ensure this meeting was private.

Downing the glass of whiskey, you heard the back door open, hearing Tommy’s shoes click against the hardwood floor as he approached you.

His hair was wet and disheveled from the rain sputtering on outside, but he walked with confidence, his eyes glistening mischievously in the moonlight.

Your heart rate was thumping from anticipation, not believing that he really pulled off the switch. 

When he saw your eyes light up in excitement and disbelief when he opened the briefcase, he felt like he had succeeded in winning you over.

He couldn’t help but notice how attractive you looked seated in the silk dress he had bought you a few months ago, the fabric fitting your curves rather lovely, your cleavage appearing rather elegantly.

The sexual tension had only built more from the first day you met at the wedding.

“I say this calls for a celebration eh? To new beginnings and-“ You cut him off, flying up from your seat smashing your lips against his. His hands settled on your cheeks, deepening the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, wanting to explore every inch. He tasted of tobacco and whiskey, the smell of his cologne turning you on more, needing him desperately.

He was taken aback by your impatience when you fumbled with his belt, unlatching it effortlessly, springing his rock hard cock out. Taking the hint, he vigorously pulled down your dress, lifting you, slamming you on top of the bar while he aligned his cock with your dripping entrance.

Grabbing a hand full of your hair, he thrusted harshly into your core, taking the breath from your lungs as you looked deep into his playful, animalistic blue eyes. 

“Ah! Tommy!” 

“You like it rough do you?” You bit your bottom lip seductively, batting your eyelashes up at him innocently. His eyes transfixed on your body that was screaming for him to use it past it’s extent, almost like he was hypnotized before he sent a sharp slap across your face, causing you to grin and laugh. His free hand cupped your boob roughly, earning a pleasurable moan from you, while your pussy was squeezed tightly around his large cock, taking it with every thrust, every pound.

Your loud moans filled the pub, your glass getting knocked to the floor, the sound of it shattering echoing through the room while Tommy groaned from your succulency. 

“Tommy.. please, m-more.” Your thighs were shaking, from the over stimulation. His cock was pressed flush deep all the way in your core. The heat was building in your thighs and you couldn’t help but rotate your eyes from Tommy’s to his dick fucking relentlessly into you.

His hands glided down caressing your hips, latching onto them as he watched your displayed body spread beautifully, devouring his cock with every thrust.

He stood straight, watching himself fuck into your pussy, taking a tremendous amount of pleasure at the sight of your dripping cunt stretching open from his cock. 

“You’re so magnetizing my darling, look at you taking my cock, such a good girl…” He cooed sweetly. Your hands gripped at the back of the bar, your back beginning to arch.

When he noticed this small motion he picked you up, manhandling you. You gasped out of shock when he pressed your back against the window, your ass sticking to the clear glass for everyone to see.

“Want me to cum in that pretty pussy? Hm? Have a little baby of our own?”

A few stragglers outside walked past the bar, but didn’t dare make eye contact knowing damn well that Tommy would blow their brains out for looking at his wife’s ass.

“Mm, mm please, please Tommy fill me up!” You cried and moaned desperately, your toes curling behind his back when you felt his cock beginning to pulsate. He was close.

After all if you were to be pregnant and married to Tommy your family would want nothing to do with you, the plan was perfect.

Your legs tightened around his waist, your arms wrapping around his neck, pressing your boobs against his muscular chest. 

He held you up against the glass with a singular hand on your ass, his other hand rubbing your clit harshly. “Gonna have our little baby when I fill you with me cum aren’t we. Eh?” His words staggered out inbetween moans. Your face contorted in pleasure when that wave of pure ecstasy vibrated throughout your body. Within seconds you were releasing your sweet syrup onto his dick, crumbling against him. 

The sight of you so breathless, so completely fucked out and the way your moth was agape from your orgasm gave Tommy’s body no option to wait any longer, shooting his cum right up into your uterus, warming your insides, while his little swimmers swam to the closest egg to latch onto.

He stayed stuffed inside of your now pouring, soaked hole, ensuring that his cum would get you pregnant.

You couldn’t help the wide grinned smile spreading across your lips, so gleefully happy. Tommy looked at you like a boy in love, and was just happy that he got a second chance at love. Not that he wasn’t surprised it was with a russian, let alone Tatiana’s sister, but he didn’t care. He was done trying to please people, to make peace with them.

Pulling him into a joyful kiss, his hand traced your tummy, completely lovestruck at the idea of a little one being created at this very moment.

~

“Where’s your sister?” Tatiana was bewildered, believing you had already arrived back in Russia. After a moment of silence she looked down at the contract, realizing it had been changed. Rushing to the safe kept in the basement, after examining the jewels she’d realized they were fake. Anger and fury setting in, when she knew full well you were the only one with the combination and at the moment it was clear where (or who) your heart and true intentions lied with. Tommy Shelby.

-

One month Later

The sounds of you vomiting, had Tommy rushing out of bed, coming to your aid and holding your hair back as you expelled the contents of your stomach. Your period now had been a week late, telling Tommy all he needed to know. 

Your family had not been in contact other than Tatiana demanding the real jewels back. She went so far as to threaten your newborn, leaving Tommy no option other than to threaten them with an infiltration of his men in Russia. They eventually backed down leaving you be when they were outnumbered and out of ideas.

You gave birth eight months later. She was just a wee girl and Tommy knew he was in for trouble when she came out with his blue eyes but hers were pure, innocent. You settled on the name of Joy Marie Shelby, because that’s what she was, your little bundle of joy.

[hyun-xxe]

You're Mine, Silly! (Yandere!Jungkook x F!Reader) PART 1

Summary: You've only met him once at a fan meet. You were excited and happy since he was your bias. Thats how you saw him. However, Jungkook saw things differently.

warnings: none

PART 1

There he was, sitting down right in front of you. A part of you still couldn't believe that he was literally a foot away, smiling at you. The sparkle in his eyes bright and shiny, just like his smile.

You swore everything inside you melted away and no thought was left except for Jungkook.

"Hey there!" he waves, grabbing your hand in his, "What's your name beautiful?" he asks, rubbing your palm with his thumb.

It took everything in you not to pass out right in front of you so you mustered up the courage to speak. "Hi!! My name is Y/N! I'm so excited to finally meet you!" you smile brightly, jumping up and down.

"Excited you say?" he smirks, leaning closer, his cologne spreading up toward you, giving you a whiff of his scent. "What makes me so exciting to you?" he questions.

You pretend to think on it real hard when in reality it was so fucking obvious why. "Hmmmm well, I can't deny that you are my bias. You're such a talented singer, song writer, are funny, and so adorable."

His eyes softened as you rambled about things you like about him. With every word you said and the way you seemed so passionate about how you feel made him feel a certain way.

When you realized you were rambling, you felt your face become hot and you removed your hand from his hold. Embarrassment filled you as you scratched the back of your neck, "I'm sorry," you apologize, "I didn't mean to ramble off your ear." you laugh.

Your laugh was cute, something he would love to hear often.

"No, don't apologize." he says and reached over to, once again, hold your hand in his. "Please, don't feel embarrassed. It was cute."

With his free hand, he reached over and grabbed your album to sign. Jungkook did not want to let go of your soft hand. It felt nice in his, like it belonged there.

When you saw him sign it with a message to your name, you opened your mouth. "Can you also put Elijah?" you ask.

he quirked his eyebrow up, confused at your request but nevertheless wrote down the name, "Is he your brother?" Jungkook asked.

You shake your head, "He's my boyfriend! He was the one who bought my ticket actually!" you smiled, "He really wanted to come today, but there was an emergency at work."

Jungkook felt himself freeze. You have a boyfriend? What?

It didn't make any sense. How could you ramble on about how perfect Jungkook is and how adorable he is, only to now say you're in a relationship?

"Oh really?" he mumbled under his breath, trying to contain his cool. "You didn't mention him before."

"it slipped my mind because I was so excited to meet you guys. You and Jimin are his biases."

He didn't know how to feel. Certainly you were flirting with him, there was no doubt, but now you're saying you're with someone. It just didn't make any sense.

"I wish he could've made it." Jungkook says, knowing damn well he didn't mean it.

The bell rung, signaling that it was time to rotate. He didn't want you to go and hated how he only had five minutes to talk to you.

You picked up your album to move on, hoping he would let go of your other hand, but he didn't. In fact, it was as if he held it tighter. You tried releasing your hand, but it was firmly held in his.

Was this by mistake?

Looking to your right, you saw the others behind grow impatient as they looked your way. A lot of the other fans caught glimpse of Jungkook still holding your hand and looking at you with full eyes.

He wasn't letting go and it made you scared because you didn't want to get yelled at by staff and even get kicked out.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a staff make their way toward you and you tried your best to get your hand out, but to no avail. However, there was a savior that stepped in.

Jin placed his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, gaining the youngest's attention. "Uhm, are you okay, Jungkook?" he asked, looking between you both. "The bell rang almost a minute ago, let go of the poor ladies hand."

It took everything in Jungkook to not yell at his hyung, but he obeyed his orders.

"I'm sorry Y/N!" he said, eyes pleading with you, "I got lost in thought and didn't mean for this to happen!"

He was loud and everyone was looking, it made you feel hot with embarrassment, but seeing how he is right now made you feel bad for some reason. As if it was your fault.

"it's ok!" you say, moving in front of Jin, "No need to apologize."

After that, everything felt quick for you. Seeing other members made you happy and it was something you would never forget, especially with Jungkook. He didn't mean to hold your hand that long, so you didn't really think much of it. Besides, you mentioned your boyfriend and your love for Elijah will triumph over Jungkook any day.

However, it was the next day that made things go downhill. You woke up to your phone going off every second. it scared you, made you think a relative died and that your siblings or parents were trying to get ahold of you.

But when you opened your sister's messages, your eyes popped out.

sister: Go check Twitter right now!!

sister: Y/N, WAKE UP!!! THIS IS IMPORTANT!!

sister: if u dont wake up rn ill fucking drive over to your apartment and nuke your door down

You message her quickly, telling her that you're checking right now. Opening the app, it was the first thing that popped up.

WHO IS THE GIRL THAT CAPTURED JK'S HEART?

Was the first headline you saw. You prayed hard and deep that it was something totally different and did not involve you at all.

You clicked on the tweet and your heart dropped. It was clearly a picture of you at the fan meet. it was the moment when Jungkook held onto your hand tightly and didn't let go. Even now you can clearly see the soft look in his face as he stared at you.

How stupid were you for not realizing that fans could take things the wrong way and make it to what it really isn't!

You read the tweet and it made your blood boil.

I was at BTS' fan meet last night and what I saw made me gasp! When the bell rung for the fans to move onto the next member, there was a moment that made everyone shocked. Jungkook wouldn't let go of this girls hand! I don't know her name or who she is, but when I zoomed in, you can see the look in his eyes that he had for her! It was adorable and sweet! The way he held her hand made me swoon!

#BTS #whoIsTheGirl #Jungkook

You scrolled through other tweets, some of them confused, others shocked, a few of them were hate, but a lot of them were excited. It pissed you off. This wasn't Wattpad, this only should happen in cringe stories. You were dating the love of your life and this could seriously ruin things.

Going to Elijah's contact, you tried calling him twice, but he didn't pick up. You texted him asking if he was ok, but he just read your message.

Everything was going downhill so you grabbed your stuff and headed over to your boyfriends apartment.

Upon arriving, you knocked several times for him to answer because there was no way in hell you were leaving without explaining things. When he opened the door, you invited yourself in without asking.

"What are you doing?" he asks, closing and locking the door behind him, "whats wrong?"

You tilted your head, confused by his actions. Is he this mad that he looks so calm?

"I'm here to talk about whats happening on twitter and want to give you my side." you say.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Something on twitter? Care to elaborate?"

"Why are you acting confused? Aren't you angry? I tried texting and calling but you ignored them."

He laughed and walked up to you, giving your forehead and kiss, "I am sorry, honey. I was on the phone with my sister and was trying to calm her down from her first heartbreak. When I saw your text, my phone died."

Elijah then walked to the counter and showed his phone with the screen showing the black background and white apple icon, signifying that it was just turning on from it being dead.

You felt the worry ease just a little as you finally calmed down. "oh thank god." you whisper, placing your hand over your chest. "You scared me so much."

he chuckles and stands in front of you, "Whats happening though? Tell me."

So you told him everything, about how Jungkook kept holding your hand, fans took pictures, thought of something else, and now you're trending on Twitter. You showed him the tweets, pictures, and tags.

His eyes scanned each and every one of them, and after he smiled and chuckled. "Oh Y/N." he gives you a tight hug, "Did you think I was angry about this? That I believed it?"

You nodded your head in his chest.

"You're such a dork." he ruffles your hair, "I would've called your if anything, and besides this is not something you would do. You're loyal, and kind, and I trust you. It was a mistake and the fans fault for taking things the wrong way."

You felt like there was a heavy weight that was lifted from your shoulder. He understood and listened carefully to your words and it made you realize how lucky you are to have him as your boyfriend.

He tried his best to cheer you up, making you food and putting on your favorite show.

When you got the notification that Jungkook was live on Weverse, you and your boyfriend stopped what you were doing to watch it, hoping he would clear up any rumor.

"Hello," he says, waving at the camera. He waited for more people to come on and just kept staring at the lense. When enough people joined, he started talking more.

"'did you see what is trending on twitter?' Yeah, I have actually. She looks pretty in that picture." he says, smiling to himself.

You tilted your head, confused by his words. Shouldn't he shoot down the rumor now instead of fueling it by saying how pretty you are?

"You guys should know that she is just has pretty as her name. Everything about her is flawless." he laughs to himself and reads another comment "'are you guys dating?' I guess this is where I have to be honest and upfront with you guys."

You felt relieved that he was finally going to dispell the rumors between you both and you can finally be at peace from all of this.

"Yes, we are dating. We wanted to keep it on the down low and she wanted to surprise me at the event, but I guess my love for her got the best of me."

Your blood ran cold and your eyes widened. Did you hear him correctly? Was he being serious? You were hoping he said something else and you just needed to check your hearing?

You turned to your boyfriend and see that hes also wide eye, frozen in his place, and even shaking just a little.

"Please, army, im asking you guys to refrain from getting into her privacy. She is human after all, my love and my girl. It would mean the world to me if you showed kindness and love to our relationship."

Why is he doing this? You didn't understand why he was saying these things and what made him attached to you. "What the actual fuck!" you screamed out, throwing your phone.

"How long have we been dating?" he reads aloud, "Since five months already." Jungkook smiles, "I cant believe time has flown by so fast!" he chuckles. "Do the members like her? Of course they do! They're so protective over her, but not too much. After all, shes my girl."

You were sick to your stomach hearing him speak more. The realization dawned on you from last night and why he kept on holding your hand tight, even when you had to move on. Him being your bias sickened you as you realized who this man truly is.

To his fans, he was the kindest and sweetest person ever, his eyes fooled everyone, even you. But now this?

Seeing your boyfriend on the couch, not saying a word broke your heart.

"Please, tell me you don't believe him babe," your eyes started to get watered, "I never met him before last night."

He finally looked at you, swallowing his spit and shaking his head, "Babe, its ok, I believe you." he answeres, "But t-that man," he points at your phone, "Hes fucking crazy. Sick in the head for thinking that. What the hell!?"

You walked up to your boyfriend, giving him a tight hug. "Don't worry babe, I'm going to fix this. I promise."

You left later that night and when you got home, you emptied your purse and thats when you noticed the album you brought with you to the fan meet.

Opening it up, your eyes almost bulged out of your head when seeing his sick note you left you.

You're the most prettiest girl I've ever met with the prettiest name. Please, I want to see you soon. Take care!

Below that had a phone number on it with the words next to it being "Contact me anytime."

You were stupid and dumb, but this needed to be fixed once and for all. Picking up your phone and putting in that number, you waited for the caller to pick up.

It went to voicemail.

You knew this was stupid and it wouldn't work, so you placed down your phone and screamed into your pillow. He's messing up the relationship between you and your man for no reason.

How could a lovely time turn into your worse? Were you actually curs-

*RING!*

Suddenly, your phone lights up with the number you put in and you almost chocked on your spit.

Slowly reaching out, you picked it up and answered, waiting for the person to speak.

"Who is th-this?" you ask, swallowing a nervous spit.

"You called me, shouldn't I be the one asking?"

The voice sounded familiar, but you didn't want to assume that it was him, however you were built on frustration and you let it all out.

"I know this is you, Jungkook. I found the number you left in my album. You are a sick bastard for what you're doing!" You yelled, "What the fuck gave you the idea that we are dating? Why the fuck are you saying this when I've never met you in my entire life.

"Do you not understand that you're ruining my relationship that I have with my boyfriend!?" You yelled into the phone, a tear slipping down.

The line stayed quiet and it pissed you off even more. Even if it wasn't Jungkook on the line, it had to be someone close to him since he wrote this number down by heart.

"Oh, its nice hearing from you finally!" his voice rung out, almost too happy, "How have you been, love?"

You felt the anger rushing in all over again as you laughed, "Are you fucking kidding me!? Did you not hear what I said??"

"I did, yes. But why should that concern me?" he asks, seemingly not caring about the situation he created.

"Did you not care to consider the fact that you're ruining my life? People around me are calling me a whore, they think I left my boyfriend because I met you! Do you not get it?!"

He chuckles a bit, "Don't listen to them, their words should mean nothing. Besides, what do you want me to do about it?"

You froze in place as you were left dumb founded. Is this man serious? "Are you fucking kidding me!? I want you to fix this! We aren't dating and I have a boyfriend, Elijah is his name. Not Jungkook."

Jungkook was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up, "You know, I don't think your boyfriend would be happy with how you were fliritng with me at the event."

You laughed at his stupidity, almost close to hanging up and calling the cops even. "Flirting with you? How was I flirting with you!?"

"The things you said about me being adorbale, funny and all of that. Don't play stupid, its not cute. What would your boyfriend do when he hears the things you said about me?"

"You cannot be serious." you say, angry and confused, "That wasn't fliritng, Jungkook! I was genuonely complimenting you since you were my bias! You need to get out of delusional land!"

"Love, you expect me to go back online and tell the world that what I said isn't true?" he asked.

"Well, fucking obviously!" you screamed.

"Yeah, I can't do that. Besides, what would the fans think of me when I tell them that all that I said was a lie?" he says.

"Well everything was a lie! You created this mess!"

He sighs, "Y/N," you forgot he knew your name, "I'm not taking back my words. I genuinely like you and want something."

You pulled your hair in disbelief, "Jungkook, did you not hear me say that I have a boyfriend 50 times!? There is no us and will never be an us."

He was quiet and all you could hear was tapping. "If you're not going to say anything, I will."

"Love, do you know the power I have?" He asks, "I am a rich man, me and my members bring in 5 BILLION dollars every year. That being said, I have the power to do anything and that anything involves you. Army listens to what I say and eat it up, if I go online with tears in my eyes talking about how hear broken I am.... you can kiss your life and privacy goodbye."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "J-Jungkook, are you threatening me?" you asked, so shocked that you swear your heart stopped pounding.

"No, I would never. I'm just letting you know the consequences of what might happen." he says in a soft, degrading tone, "Listen, why don't we meet up and talk about this? Yeah? I'll send you an address first thing tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"No! I'm not going to meet you, are you crazy!?" you yell, gripping your phone tighter in your hands.

"I wonder how army will feel when they hear you say how 'fucking stupid' I am, and how delusional I am for simply being in love." he sighs, "I would hate for your reputation to plummet."

The feeling of your heart sinking is the worse feeling in the entire world. You were helpless and you didn't know what to do, this was completely out of your hands, he was in charge.

"W-why are you doing this to me?" you whisper, tears falling down, "what did I do?"

"Don't cry, my love." he whispers in a soothing tone, "Seeing you for the first time has made me helpless. I knew I needed you in my life. You are the most beautiful human I've ever laid eyes on. Lets talk more about this tomorrow, ok love?"

You didn't feel like talking more, so you stuttered out a yes before hanging up. This man is insane and you knew that if you made the smallest mistake, he has the power to ruin you and your family. What did you do to deserve this?

*PART 2 COMING UP SOON!*

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Wukong & afab!monkey!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Trying to sneak out of having a bath is impossible when your grandpa can sniff out your funk. Warnings/Tags: Fluff, wholesome stuff, gremlin behavior, grooming/preening. Word Count: 800+ words

On the flower fruit mountain, there were a plethora of monkeys across the mountain/island. A particular monkey, who looked no bigger than the usual monkey that hung around the mountain, crawled on the forest floor with their tail swishing in the air. Their eyes shifted left to right, their hands feeling carefully around the moist dirt and used their tiny feet to propel themselves forward.

The mud, pebbles, and leaves began caking their furry body as they continued army crawling to reach the break in the treeline. Just a few more seconds and you would be in the clear and ready to sneak off to the beach, all a part of your plan to spend the rest of your day making the largest sand castle there ever was. Too bad you couldn't rope MK into helping you, but he was the last thing on your mind at the moment. 

 

Right, you needed to focus on escaping your-

 

"And where do you think you're going, young lady?" 

 

Aw shucks. 

You attempted to flee but a tail snaked around your ankle and yanked you up into the air. You hung upside down, scratching and clawing at the air as you slowly rotated in the older monkey's clutch. 

"Pa, lemme-lemme down!" You shrieked. 

"Not until you explain why you were sneaking' around and avoiding your much needed bath," Wukong, who happens to be your very annoying grandpa, pulled a face as he leaned forward to sniff you and gagged. 

"I took one yesterday!" 

"Your yesterday could be another person's week," Wukong raised an unimpressed brow as you began to chew on his tail to break free. "Let's go, kiddo, you're taking a bath one way or another."

"Ughhh, noooo!" You wailed as your grandpa summoned his cloud. Just as he was about to lower you on to it, you batted the dirt you managed to grab earlier and aimed for his eyes. 

"Wha-? HEY!" Wukong spat and sputtered the dirt that managed to enter his mouth. His hands failed to snatch your rolling form from escaping. "Get back here!"

"Oh, you're gonna be in so much trouble when I find you!" Was the last thing you heard as you scampered off. 

Despite your smaller body, your inherited strength and energy made it easier to put a lot of distance between yourself and your grandpa. You laughed triumphantly as you leapt from a tree and reached for a vine to swing to another branch. 

You flung yourself in the air before landing on a high branch, sticks and other pieces of the forest tangled in your wild mane as you glanced over your shoulder to carefully examine any sign that the older simian was on your tail. You snorted smugly as you raised your tail high before reaching for the branch above your head only to grab something leather-y. You looked up and found your grinning grandfather knelt on the very branch you were going to grab. 

 

"Boo." 

  

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

It's safe to say that you ended up back in the cave with your grandpa dunking your stinky self into the nearest bed of water while he gathered the rest of the stuff he'll need to tame your messy appearance. As his fingers worked through the knots and twists in your hair, you hissed and attempted to move your head away from his hands only to be guided back by his tail. 

"Sit still," Wukong sternly demanded as he moved your hands away from reaching up to your head. You only pouted in response, but overtime the gentle combing and scratches made your head droop to the side as you nearly dozed off a couple of times. Yet, you would always fight it off and remain glowering at the reflection of your grandpa in the soapy water. 

"Don't look so gloomy, peaches," Your grandpa snickered as you blew a bubble away from your face. Wukong plucked a stick from your hair and flicked it away, "Look, we're almost done and I'll give you something sweet after, 'kay?" 

You grumbled something before lifting your arms so your grandfather could take you out. You dropped your head on his shoulder as you were wrapped in a towel and placed in Wukong's lap. Wukong noticed your stillness as he rubbed the towel against your mane, squeezing gently and massaging the rest of the water off your body.

Hearing the soft snores coming from you brought a smile to his face. The monkey king gently cradled you against his chest, wishing you the best of dreams you could ever have.

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[sv3t1ana]

⇜ previous chapter ⋮ next chapter ⇝ ➤ a multi-chapter fic in which Satoru and Suguru are your childhood best friends. Reuniting as adults, you realize you're in love with them both. Will they make you choose? S. Gojo x fem reader x S. Geto

WARNINGS ᯓ saying ily during sex, unprotected p i v,

WORD COUNT ᯓ 953

Chapter 5. Duplicity

A few weeks drift by, but time doesn’t move in a straight line for you anymore. It weaves and tucks itself between moments. The Earth continued its usual hum, and you’re not the same person stuck in it’s repetitive rotations. Suguru is no longer a distant memory, but rather a name that gets caught in the corners of your mind. The texts come often, the words slipping into the quiet of your life like an undercurrent.

“You know, I can help with your car issue whenever you’re free.”

It’s only a small thing, but you can’t help to feel giddy reading it. The offer feels different, it was more than just an oil change. He resembled the cute boy you always knew, making the simplest of gestures feel significant.

“I know it needs an oil change, but I haven’t found the time to go… you know how it is.”

A small sigh escapes your lips as you lean back in bed. You’ve been swamped with assignments since you thought it was a good idea to spend every free moment possible with Satoru. And here Suguru was, sending your heart for another spin when he made the most mundane of tasks feel important. His next reply came almost immediately.

“I can come over and do it for you. No big deal.”

You almost hesitated, your thumbs hovering over the screen. It’s just something about his offer to help, his effortless confidence, the simple fact he would do it and you’d owe him nothing in return.

Later, when he’s standing in front of you, sleeves rolled up as he uses his forearm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, the air surrounding you reforms once again. He was standing so close, the smell of the fresh oil coupled with his earthy scent was sending you for a loop. His hands steady and sure while he works with the engine.

You tried not to stare, truly, you tried your hardest. But when he stood feet away from you, removing his shirt, your breath thickened. His body is lean, sculpted from the gods in a way you didn’t remember. The muscles on his arms and shoulders defined, sharp lines that spoke of grace and strength. His skin, kissed by the sun in ways that made you itch, everything in front of your eyes was as though you’re seeing him for the first time. But you’re not. You’ve known Suguru, but the version of him standing in front of you felt so much more alive.

It’s odd, this new realization of yours. This isn’t just the boy you’d cheat off of during tests, the one who always made his charm present, this is really him. This is a man who commands your attention without asking for it, his quiet confidence making your breath catch just being around him.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, noticing your stare, voice too smooth for your own good.

You swallowed hard, almost physically having to clutch your heart.

“No,” you replied softly. Too softly, your voice betraying you.

It was already done, the invisible line there crossed some time ago, the line that separated you and Suguru from something that could never be said aloud. The weight of two heartbeats settling over you like a promise neither of you intended to make. Suguru was still close, the tension exuding off him so thick you could carve your name into the air.

There wasn’t much time between him changing the oil in your car before you were straddling him on your couch. His big palms finding purchase on your ass as your body slapped his, his cock thick and ridged with veins your body memorized. There wasn’t much time before you felt like your ears were ringing, about to set ablaze.

“You know,” he began, his head titled, face contorted as your hips descended rapidly. “I think I’ve always been in love with you.”

No, don’t say that.

“Suguru…” you trailed off, panting as you slowed your pace, meeting his eyes with yours. “Are you serious?”

“I mean it.”

Please, don’t say that.

You couldn’t help but say it back, the words tumbling out of you like they were always buried there, waiting for the right moment. They came from a place so deep within you couldn’t tell where the feeling started and ended. It wasn’t just love, but a thousand little moments, all pieced together quietly and without question, gathered and held together by Suguru’s hands.

It was the strength he offered when the world crumbled. How he stepped in when Satoru couldn’t. He hadn’t just picked you up, but rather reassembled you, a shattered piece of glass with smoothed over cracks to make you whole again. His touch was delicate, understanding, sharp, unwavering. Suguru was precise where you were most fragile.

It was in those countless times when the world seemed to forget you, when no one seemed to care. Suguru was the one who wouldn’t let you walk alone, he’d always show up. And not out of obligation, but a quiet promise made a long time ago, placing you before everything else, even the darkness that surrounded and consumed you both.

It was the way he saw you, no pretense or judgment. When all you wanted to do was hide behind walls of sarcasm, indifference, humor, Suguru would ask, voice sincere, “what’s wrong?” He continued to understand the unspoken parts of you, parts you never outwardly showed. And as you repeated his words, a part of you realized, that this might not just be love, but a bond transcended time, existing in the places, times, and dimensions where you didn’t. He was your anchor before you realized you needed one.

tags: @fortunatelyfurrygiver

[kpoptrashlord-007]

In The Dark;; PJS

Word Count;; 2k

Genre;; Yandere

Pairing;; Jay x Reader

Summary;;

Your anniversary vacation goes horribly wrong after you get into an argument with your usually level-headed fiancé. He shows a whole different side of himself, one you wish you'd never seen.

Warnings;;

Yandere!! so there’s violence, dark themes, etc but nothing too extreme. Established relationship Reader is referred to as ‘princess’ and ‘gal’.

Request;;

"One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.” This prompt for Yandere Enhypen Jay -- Anonymous

Notes;;

This isn’t exactly how I see him as a yandere but… it was the first thing that came to mind with the prompt! Also went a little experimental at the end for the last quarter-ish. The rest was written before one of my many breaks so I’m just... trying to get back into the groove, man.

Main Masterlist || EN- Masterlist || Yandere Masterlist || Kinkoween Masterlist

There’s no moon tonight. Outside is pitch-black. Not ‘grey’ or ‘dark’: black. There isn’t a single star to lighten the sky. Just a whole lot of nothing. Even the trees appear black, their greenery spoiled and rotted as winter approaches.

Inside isn’t much brighter. The fire is dying, its embers fading to ash. Dull and in dire need of replacement the single lamp in the room offers no real coverage. It doesn’t even reach beyond the recliner you’re resting on. The tacky, century-old rug sitting in the centre of the room falls prey to the growing shadows as they swallow more and more area.

Beyond the rug is Jongseong. He’s pacing again. No light reaches the wall he’s so attached to. Even when he stops to peer out the window, he’s just a nondescript mass. You squint to better picture him, to try to get a sense of how he’s feeling, but come up short. It isn’t a leap to say he’s pissed but you can’t gauge how deep that anger runs.

“Jongseong, that’s not–”

“Can’t you just call me Jay?” he snaps and you can’t help the small gasp that slips out. “What, princess? Is that too much to ask?”

It takes a moment to build your courage. Fiddling with the ring on your finger, you rotate it once, twice, wringing your hands as you formulate your next move. There’s a sea of ice between you and his temper is melting your safety route faster than you can flee. If you don’t diffuse the argument now you’re sure to drown under his pressure, under his whims.

“There’s no talking to you when you’re like this.”

Not ideal, not at all. He’s turning to you now. There’s a wildfire blazing in his eyes and a single look has you reeling.

Before he has a chance to intervene you jump to your feet. It’s only a few quick steps to the bedroom. Any more than that and he’d have reached you, would’ve forced you to stay and listen to whatever delusion he’s conjured up this time. You slam the door closed and lock it with mere milliseconds to spare.

“Open the door.”

“Not until you calm down!”

Your voice is stronger than you feel yet it’s still no match against his unwavering calm.

“Baby, open up. I’m not asking again.”

“Good night, Jongseong.”

“Princess,” he chides, knuckles rapping against the door. “You’re being unreasonable.”

Clearing your throat, you walk backward toward the bed, gaze glued to the rattling door knob. When your legs meet the thick duvet half-fallen off the mattress you almost slip. The sudden shock of it has your heart beating a million miles an hour. Clutching your chest, you exhale a shaky gasp that ends with a sharp wince. There’s a painful haze invading your mind. Your temples pulsate as a little drummer boy bangs against the inside of your skull.

Once more you find the ring on your finger and twirl it. It offers little comfort in the dark. All those diamonds mean nothing if there’s no light to shine on them. They’re just rocks, pretty little rocks. Biting your bottom lip, you commit to your defiance. With a harsh tug you free your finger of the worthless promise and throw it toward the nightstand.

What washes over you is far from relief.

And if you can’t find it tomorrow?

It settles in your gut like spoiled meat.

What will he say when he finds out?

Seconds tick by.

Everything is still, silent.

And that has to be enough, at least for now.

You disrobe down to your undergarments and, after a final cautionary glance toward the door, hop into bed. It’s emptier without Jongseong. His side of the bed is cold and endless. No matter how much he drives you crazy at times, you still love him. Which makes the truth harder to swallow, makes your decision harder to act on.

It’s a cowardly move to do it over text but you don’t trust yourself enough to do it face to face, not when he’s both so perfect yet horrendous, so compassionate yet cruel. With the intention of elaborating on it in the morning, you fire off a simple text:

This isn’t working. I need a break.

Curling up into a ball, you grab your headphones and fall into melancholia. There’s no song nor sound that can ease your worries. Hiding beneath your chilled pillow does nothing to clear your thoughts. They rush around you, slamming against you with the force of a tidal wave, damn-near crushing you beneath the weight of your decisions. You twist and turn, desperate to shake away your guilt, to escape the aching of your soul.

But it follows you into the land of dreams, polluting everything it touches until a decaying wasteland remains.

---

You awake with a start. Sweat lines your body, thick and pungent. Your chest heaves as you glance around the room drenched in shadow. It’s automatic the way your arm flings across the bed toward the nightstand. Chilled porcelain gnaws at your fingertips and it’s a small victory, a tiny first step in conquering the invading dark. Spit catches in your throat when the gentle hum of your music is broken by a loud bang. Even as you find the beaded string, fear clutches your heart in a vice-grip. You snap the pull chain switch down. The lamp doesn’t turn on.

A second bang breaks your concentration and this time you throw your headphones off. It’s followed by another. Then another. And another. Until at last the wood gives with a shrill shriek and splinters. Accompanying the assault on the door is… singing? You strain to comprehend the words filtering through.

“One, two, Daddy’s coming for you,” Jongseong taunts. His song seeps under the threshold, melodic yet maniacal in its delivery.

Once again you try the light, yanking on the switch until it breaks. You curse under your breath before scrambling to find your phone. The room is a prison in the dark – it suffocates with the unknown. Unholy horrors lurk in every corner. There’s a sliver of light beaming through the fracturing door but it only heightens your fears, confirms the unbelievable.

Jongseong has fucking lost it.

“Three, four,” he continues, “Knocking. Down. Your. Door!”

Each word is emphasised with another bang until the door crashes to the floor with the final hit. A scream rips free of your throat as Jongseong clambers into the room. Feral in his anger, he kicks the door one last time for good measure. Light filters in around his heaving form.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch sight of your phone and lunge for it. It’s bitingly cold within your palm.

“Oh,” Jongseong laughs, wiping sweat off his forehead. He steps toward you, a million-dollar smile spreading across his face. “Did I wake you, princess?”

Bright blue light burns your eyes as you wake your phone. You’re met with a lockscreen. With every letter you press, Jongseong draws closer. Your fingers quiver and shake, selecting all the wrong keys. Backspacing, you try again.

Incorrect Password Entered.

His sigh hangs heavy in the room, the sound too close for comfort. Closing your eyes, you try again.

Another rejection.

It isn’t until he’s standing before you, third failed attempt mocking as it flashes across the screen, that you crack. Tears warm your cheeks. You don’t even fight him when he slips the phone out of your hand and pockets it. He follows as you slump to the floor, never stooping all the way down to your level but leaving no space to breathe air free of his scent. A fine layer of expensive cologne coats your throat. It’s made permanent as you swallow down a broken sob; a taste you’ll never escape.

There’s a fire burning within him. It’s all-consuming, devouring his every emotion until all that remains is blackened char. And it’s tangible - you feel it when his skin meets yours. He’s a furnace in need of its next meal. He burned through all he had and now he wants what’s left of you, too.

“Why are you crying, princess?”

Wetness smears across your cheek and a small voice inside worries that his touch might generate steam. How can it not? His mere presence is a heatwave.

“You’ve been missing me, haven’t you?”

Without lifting your head away from the safety of your legs, you defy him. A mistake, if the sheen of sweat lining your palms is anything to go by. Jay hates when you disobey. He’d never say so in such plain words, of course. He’d hide the truth behind a veneer of glamour and allure. Dressing it up pretty, he’d contort the meaning until it suited him, until the amalgamation of his creation pleased him.

But the room is dark. Too dark to see a diamond’s glint, too dark to fall for his charm.

“No,” you whisper against your better judgement.

Blunt nails dig into the tender flesh of your calves and you bite down on your yelp. With an unyielding grip he pulls your legs out from under your hunched form. Inch by inch you unfurl until you’re laid flat beneath him, his body blotting out the living room’s weak light. He takes up the whole space with his presence.

The wooden floor shakes as he smacks a hand down beside your face. Fresh tears escape the corners of your eyes and you blink them away, will them to disappear before he sees the effect he has on you. The other arm soon follows, his elbow trapping you from the left side while his fingers linger above, readying to pin your head down at a moment’s notice.

“I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t quite catch that.” His body dips closer, close enough to burn, and his words dance around your throat in warning. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

Shame floods your system as your head jerks down, both a show of agreement and an act of submission. It’s easier to give in than to fight. Fighting only leads to more broken doors and crushed hopes. Dawn will come and he’ll shine once more, bright and blinding in the light, a diamond to be treasured. He’s desired even amongst the wives of his friends, elevating you to the status of envied.

Aren’t you just the luckiest gal?

“I want to hear you say it.”

He leaves no room between you, his breath hot on your lips. Sucking down his exhalation you choke on the mere scraps of oxygen left behind. Always in control, even of the air you breathe. It burns in your lungs and you gasp, desperate for more, but your place will always be second to him. He takes his fill then offers what’s left, and you gulp it down. It tastes like a miracle as it passes through your system.

“I missed… you.”

The final word is a croak and darkness be damned, you see the disdain twitching across his features. You’re a mess, a disgrace, an embarrassment, but he keeps you around out of love or pity.

“How could you not after sending off such an attention-seeking message like that?” Patting your hair down, he chuckles. “Next time just sit still, listen, and apologise. Is that too much to ask?”

Jagged inhalations quicken the bounce of your chest, panic seeping into your veins. Black spots tease the edge of your vision and you chase them until your head lolls to the side. If dawn could just break, if it could just bask his skin in a single ray of light, your Jay would return to you – handsome, smooth, beguiling.

A joint in your neck snaps painfully as your head is wrestled back within his gravity. Your cheeks depress under his iron grip. There is no fairytale ending, no timely rise of the sun to cast away his demons. Locked in conflicting fear and hatred, your hand clenches, nail digging into the plush flesh until the rebellion fades and defeat resounds through every muscle.

“I’m scared,” you say, voice dying before you can finish your truth.

The kiss you share is oblivious, his pride too great to acknowledge the two words left unspoken.

of you.

“I know you are–”

I’m scared of you, Jongseong.

“–but you have nothing to worry about.”

The monster waiting in the dark is you.

“Princess,” he says, his tender voice ringing out in triumph. “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

And you swallow the thought deep, suppressing it until a smile emerges in its stead.

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Thank you! – ♡ –

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol mentioned, smut! dirty talk, minor insecurity if you squint. If you haven't voted or what series I do next go do that! Though we all know Emily's gonna win... LOL. I do really want to write that one next but I also kinda wanna take a break from Em for a bit to branch out, not that I'm sick of her lol. We'll see what happens lol.

Neither of you were entirely sure how you’d gotten here.

It was an exceptionally hot weekend for almost being October, too hot to stay in the stuffy apartment with no air conditioning. In search of cooler air you’d ended up at a different bar, one with a very different vibe from your usual pub, one where heat wasn’t the only thing coursing through the air. You couldn’t pinpoint the moment when it happened but a few rounds of drinks and a handful of shots later Emily had you pinned to the wall in an alleyway on the way back to the apartment, her knee slotted between your legs as your lips chased hers for another kiss.

“You’re not the only one who needs to get laid Carter.” She husked, her teeth scraping down the column of your neck.

“I’m not fucking you in an alley.” You managed back between airy breaths and Emily chuckled, hand wrapping around your wrist to drag you back to the apartment.

The door was barely locked by the time Emily’s fingers were sneaking under the hem of your shirt, tickling up your skin before she tugged it over your head and it found home on the floor. Her hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you in for another heated kiss, her tongue easily slipping into your mouth as you moaned, fingers slipping into the belt loops of her shorts. You backed your way into your bedroom, lips dancing against hers, quiet moans escaping both of you. An arm wrapped around Emily’s waist and you turned her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. A small squeak escaped her lips as you broke the kiss, nudging her backwards while your lips traced down the side of her jaw.

“What?” You asked, nipping her skin softly, “you said you wanted to get off too.” Your hands tickled at the skin between her tank and shorts before they froze, “unless you changed your mind?”

“No,” She breathed out nudging at you to get you to continue sucking at her neck, her fingers wrapped around your wrist, guiding you away from the hem of her shirt, “just…leave it on.” She directed your hand to the buckle of her belt instead and you hummed in understanding.

Nipping at the crook of her neck, your tongue laved across the bite when Emily hissed softly and you placed a gentle kiss on the mark before sucking at her skin. Your hands swiftly made work of her belt, undoing her shorts and pushing them down her legs. She let out a groan when you cupped at her through her panties, her hips rocking toward the touch as pleasure surged through her, desperate to feel more.

“Don’t fucking tease.” She murmured and you laughed, pulling yourself away from her neck as your hands gently shoved at her hips.

“Then lie back and take those off.”

Emily dropped down onto the bed, fingertips slipping into the band of her panties to shove them down her legs, watching as you quickly ditched your own shorts, climbing onto the bed to capture her lips in another kiss. This one even more heated than the last as Emily’s hand tangled into your hair, keeping you close to her, tongue rolling against yours as her other hand easily undid your bra. Once the fabric had dropped from your skin her free hand began to toy with you, rolling your nipples, pinching them softly, pulling little moans and whines from you, muffled by the kiss.

Your hand squeezed at her thigh, fingers beginning to dance across her soft skin, tracing higher and higher with each rotation. She let out an impatient whine into the kiss and you smirked, nipping at her lip when she attempted to pout in frustration. Your hand cupped between her legs and her head fell back into the pillows when she let out a satisfied groan, her body tingling with pleasure. The heel of your hand lightly ground against her clit while your fingers started to trail through her folds, slipping in just enough to coax out her juices.

“Fuck…” Emily muttered beneath you, her breath picking up as her hips began to rock in time with your movements. You let out a prideful chuckle, shifting to sit up and she grabbed at your free arm, clicking her tongue at you, “get back here.”

She dragged you into another kiss, moaning into your mouth as your finger tips pressed into her pussy. Her hips twitched up toward the touch and you finally gave her what she wanted, sinking a single finger inside her, satisfied at the way her body practically melted beneath you. You thrusted a couple of times, your tongue dipping into her mouth at the same pace before you added a second finger and she broke the kiss with a moan.

“Oh god..”

“Relax…” you murmured, your nose nudging her chin so you could kiss down her neck again.

Emily’s hand tangled into your hair, holding you to her body as you continued to pump your fingers, each thrust shooting more pleasure through her. She could feel the sparks flying, soaring further south each time your finger tips brushed past the sensitive spot inside her. She let out a gasp when you suddenly curled your fingers, actually hitting it and she could feel your lips curve up into a sly grin against her skin. Whining softly her hips rocked up into your hand and you began to pump them faster, curling with each thrust and her heart was hammering in her chest. You nipped at the crook of her neck and began to make your way across her collarbone, barely able to leave a gentle kiss on the swell of her chest before the hand she had in your hair was pulling you back up into another kiss.

Her pussy was soaked, each pass of your fingers pulling more juices from her, smearing them across her inner thighs and leaking down your wrist. You could feel the way she was pulsing around you already, the tremors each time your finger tips pressed into her g-spot, her thighs quaking around your arm as her moans got louder and needier. You slowed, pressing into the spongey spot harder and longer this time,

“Oh fuck!”

“You gonna come for me?” You husked, your breath hot on her lips as she panted underneath you, a small nod of her head as her eyes scrunched shut.

Quickly changing the angle of your hand, your thumb found her clit, rubbing circles on it and she moaned loudly, her body tensing as pleasure rocked through it. When you pressed harder on her clit she could feel all of the fire racing into the pit of her stomach, curling tighter and tighter as you began to rub faster, timing it with the thrusts of your fingers. The moment you curled your fingers again she cried out, her pussy clenching down around you as her orgasm shot through her, the hand tangled in your hair tightened, nails scratching at your scalp. Her hips jolted up, thighs shaking as you fucked her through her orgasm until she collapsed into the pillows panting.

“Satisfied?” You asked with a smirk as you sat up, pulling your fingers from her before sucking them into your mouth to clean them off.

“Not until you’re so thoroughly fucked you can’t think.” She shot back, swiftly sitting up so she could flip you onto your back, her legs easily straddling your waist, pinning you to the bed.

Emily’s mouth began quick work on your body, kissing down the column of your neck, biting hard enough to make you hiss but hopefully not hard enough to leave a mark. Her tongue left wet paths over the indentations, mouth sucking at the crook of your neck harder when you moaned, back arching toward the touch. She nipped her way across your collarbone and licked a broad strip up the middle of your chest before her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into her mouth.

Your hands easily tangled into her hair, pulling just enough to indicate that she should keep doing what she was doing. Every so often her teeth would dig into your tender skin, her tongue flicking patterns over your nipple while sucking, her hand mimicking her motions on the other side. You let out a gasp when her teeth sunk into the underside of your chest, this one for sure hard enough to leave a mark as she did it again, sucking at the same spot until she was satisfied and repeated everything on the other side.

You could feel the tension leaving your body, practically melting into the bed with each ministration of her tongue or fingers, knowing that this was exactly what you needed and she’d barely even started. Her free hand sunk down your body, tickling its way across your stomach until it landed between your legs, massaging at you through the lace of your panties causing you to let out a needy whine. Emily chuckled against your skin, her eyes darting up to yours, unsurprised to find your head thrown back in the pillows, eyes fluttering. Her fingers snapped at the waistband of your underwear before tugging at them and you were more than quick to help kick them down your legs, baring your pussy to her.

“So wet already.” She teased as her fingers swept through you, causing your hips to jolt up to the touch as you sucked in a heavy breath.

Continuing her movements on your chest, nipping and sucking at the supple skin her hand pushed your legs apart and her fingers easily sunk into your pussy. You moaned at the sensation, hips beginning to roll in the same rhythm that she set, whimpers and quiet groans escaping your lips. She crooked her fingers just right and you gasped, your fingers tightening in her hair.

“Oh fuck!”

“You like that?” She mused, her fingers curling again, pressing right into the spot and you practically whimpered.

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.” She pressed harder before pumping her hand a few more times, her fingers twisting and scissoring inside you before they suddenly disappeared from your cunt and squeezed at your hip, “over.” She slipped off you so you could do as she said, rolling onto your stomach, “where’s the strap?”

“Nightstand.”

She shifted off the bed, finding the toy and quickly assembling it with such expertise that your eyes nearly widened, she certainly did know her way around and what she was doing. She climbed back into the bed with a bottle of lube in her hand, settling between your legs she swatted at your ass and you eagerly popped up on your knees, presenting yourself to her and she hummed in appreciation. You heard the pop of the lube bottle opening before she smeared the toy with it and you gasped, nearly jumping at the coolness of it on such a hot night when she rubbed the tip against your cunt.

“Fuck..”

Emily spanked your clit with her cock a couple of times before thrusting it against your pussy, smearing it with your juices and pulling needy whines and whimpers from you. Her fingers returned to your cunt, spreading it open for her,

“Such a pretty pussy.” She praised, nudging the head of the toy into you, slowly sinking it in until her hips met your body and you let out a low moan.

“Oh my god…”

She dragged it out until just the tip was left still inside your wetness and then quickly thrusted back into you, pulling a breathy gasp from you and you pushed back against her, aching to feel it even deeper. Smirking, Emily braced her hands on your hips, fingers digging into your tender skin so she could set a steady pace, her cock fully plunging into your pussy with each thrust of her hips.

Flickering of fire began in your pussy, pulsing around the toy as heat built further and further through your body, sending a trail of goosebumps across your skin. It prickled just underneath the surface, feeling more and more like it was going to burst with each thrust of her cock. You could feel it down to the tips of your fingers and toes, curling, clenching at the bedspread while Emily continued to fuck you, the occasional thrust so hard it sent you bumping forward.

“Oh- g.. God don’t stop.” You managed, voice mumbled by the pillows and Emily didn’t even think of letting up the pace.

Instead, her hand snuck around you, fingertips finding your clit and she began to rub it in tandem with the pace of her hips. You felt the spark nearly burst inside you, pussy fluttering harder and tighter around the toy as it hit your g-spot with each thrust, juices practically dripping down your thighs. You let out a rather whiny moan, hands digging deeper into the bedspread as you pushed your hips back harder, making sure she was fucking you as deep as she could and she chuckled.

“Come for me.” She panted, pressing onto your clit harder as she rubbed it, “I know you want to, let me see how pretty you are when you come on my cock.”

It didn’t take much more than Emily’s voice husking those words to you for you to completely come apart, your cunt clenching down around her, a cry coming from your throat as your body practically collapsed onto the bed shaking. Emily pulled her slightly pinned hand away from your clit, watching the way your thighs continued to twitch as pleasure tore through your body. Her cock slowly thrusted in and out of you a few more times before it slipped from you and you let out a gentle whine.

“Satisfied?” She asked with a tease and you huffed out a laugh.

“Very.” Your eyes were fluttered shut, attempting to catch your breath but you heard the tell tale sound of the strap undoing, the toy landing on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Emily’s hand gently came to scratch at your scalp and you let out a satisfied hum, your body relaxing further into the bed.

“You okay?” She asked, still rather breathless and you nodded.

“Mmhmm.” You cracked open an eye, looking over at her, “are you?”

“Yeah.” She sucked in a breath, “more work than I remember.”

You laughed this time, propping yourself up on your elbows, “count it as your workout for the week then.”

“If all I have to do to get out of gym sessions is that then sign me up.”

You both laughed, then fell into silence as you both came down from your highs, finally able to catch your breath and relax, praying for the night air breezing in through the window to be cooler than the day was. You had your eyes shut when Emily spoke, her voice nearly hesitant,

“You know… this doesn’t like… change things, right? Like, I don’t like you like that or anything…”

“Not at all.” You mumbled, “just a friend helping a friend.” You extended a hand out to her and while she laughed, she high fived you, “now get out of my bed, I can already feel the heat radiating off your body and I refuse to sweat anymore tonight.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” She replied, hopping off the bed to collect her discarded shorts before disappearing through your bedroom door, making sure it was shut behind her before she finally collapsed into her own bed for the night.

_____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

[writeforfandoms]

The Name of the Wind 3

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I know this is a bit late BUT this is still for @glitterypirateduck challenge. This is not the last chapter of this story, but it is the last chapter that will be using prompts from the challenge. This chapter used "Do you trust me?"

Warnings: Swearing, wooing, someone is a little oblivious, flying, dragons. Oh, and two new/familiar characters show up.

Word count: 1.8k

Weeks passed. You learned your way around and met the other people who lived there. Not just the riders, but the kitchen staff too. You learned how everything worked, when to eat, where to wash up. Everything. 

It was different from how your life had been before, but different didn't mean bad. Not in this case. 

You never heard another word about your would-be husband. And you certainly didn't ask - that would be inviting trouble. 

The hardest thing to adapt to was the most integral part of your role here. 

The dragons. 

Caba was very calm every time you interacted with him… which was quite a bit in the beginning, as Alejandro used him to demonstrate how the harnesses went on and where they wore the most. Caba didn't mind being used as a show model, remaining calm around you. 

Unfortunately, that could not be said of every dragon. 

The youngest dragon in the garrison, a blue female, actually knocked you off your feet when you met her. Her rider was apologetic, helping you back to your feet. The freshly-chastened dragon drooped like a misbehaving pup while Caba oversaw the fitting process for her harness. 

You did not get knocked over a second time. But it did take multiple washes to get all the mud off you later.

After that little incident, Caba or Alejandro was around for every new dragon you met. You weren't sure if you were flattered, or disgruntled. 

Perhaps the most interesting thing to you was how self-contained the garrison was. Supplies came from the capital regularly, but the garrison otherwise seemed to be run by Alejandro. He oversaw everything, from training to rotations to travel. He didn't seem to need to ask anyone above him for anything, which seemed both curious and, if you were being honest, appealing. 

An honest man, with a sense of humor, who treated everyone well and didn't place himself above the others? And one who was also competent and ran his garrison well? 

Honestly, you were surprised he didn't have a spouse already. 

(He didn't. You knew because you'd caught some of the younger riders gossiping.) 

You were, however, surprised when he approached you after breakfast one day. You didn't always sit at his table, only sometimes. Usually when he or Rodolfo flagged you down. This was the first time he had approached you, usually summoning you to his side instead. 

“How much work do you have today?” He asked, walking next to you as you put your dirty dishes in the bins. 

“Not a lot, nothing urgent,” you responded slowly. You had a custom order you were excited to work on, but that could wait another day. Especially if Alejandro needed you for something. 

He flashed a grin at you, nearly making your knees wobble. “So you have time free.” 

“I do,” you agreed, eyeing him. “Why?”

“Do you trust me?” He stopped in the hallway, turning fully to face you. 

You nodded slowly, looking at him. “I do.” 

“Meet me outside in twenty minutes. Wear something warmer.” He held your gaze, magnetic and unavoidable. 

“Okay,” you agreed, soft and a little surprised. But you hadn't lied. You did trust him. 

At least enough to trust that he wouldn't toss you out of the overlook, or anything like that.

It took very little time to grab a warm coat and gloves, since you weren't exactly sure what you were going to be doing. The walk outside was full of the typical bustle of the garrison - you passed riders going every which way, and as you passed near the kitchen, the chatter and chinking of washing reached your ears. 

It was amazing to think about how quickly this had become home to you. 

Alejandro stood outside next to Caba, waiting on you, dressed in his riding leathers. You allowed yourself only a moment or two to let your gaze wander over the well-fitted leathers before looking to the dragon instead. 

To your surprise, he wore a modified version of his harness. 

“We don't need the full harness,” Alejandro said, having correctly guessed your line of thinking from the surprise in your face and the line of your gaze. “Not for this.”

“And what is this?” You asked hesitantly, stopping in front of him. 

Alejandro grinned, bright and pleased, with only a little humor. “You said you trust me.” 

“I do,” you reiterated, only to squeak when Alejandro grabbed your hand and pulled you to Caba. “What–?” 

But Alejandro offered no answer beyond stopping next to Caba, who had obligingly laid down to make his shoulder not entirely out of reach. Alejandro knelt and patted his thigh. 

“You can reach the straps to help pull yourself up,” he offered, watching you. “It is easier if you have a boost to start.” 

You stared at him for a moment before turning your gaze to the dragon. “What?” You squeaked. 

Alejandro did his best not to laugh at you, lips clamped together even as his shoulders shook. “Up you go,” he encouraged, hints of laughter in his voice.

You thought about protesting, but, well. You did trust him. So you took a deep breath and used his proferred thigh as a step up. Your ascent up Caba's shoulder was not graceful, but you also didn't slide back down. You'd take that as a good thing. You felt very high up, sitting on his back as you were. 

Alejandro climbed up after you, making it look easy. He sat behind you, his thighs bracketing yours. You swallowed, suddenly quite warm. 

“Hold here,” Alejandro murmured, low and close to your ear, reaching past you to pull on a strap. You grabbed it tight, partially to hide the shaking in your fingers. “Don't worry. I won't let you fall.” One of his hands settled at your waist. You sucked in a sharp breath, partially disguised by the sudden movement under you as Caba got to his feet. You rocked with the movement, startled. 

Caba didn't give you any time to adjust, though. He just started away from the garrison, using the open flat space to gain some speed. Massive leathery wings snapped out at his sides. You squeezed the strap tighter at the first sweep of those wings, feeling unsteady but for Alejandro's solid presence at your back. 

One more downsweep and Caba launched into the air, the pressure pushing you back against Alejandro. He held firm, his grip on your waist reassuring. 

Caba leveled out soon after, the pressure easing. Wind whipped in your face, cold but clear. You blinked rapidly as you adjusted, breathing in slowly. 

Alejandro squeezed your waist gently, His head close to yours as he shouted to be heard over the wind. “Look now.” 

You did, and gasped. From here you could just barely see the coast, blue stretching for miles and miles. The river valley below seemed very far away, though the river sparkled where it came down from the mountains and snaked across the land. You couldn't look down for long, though, before you started to feel dizzy. 

But you didn't fear falling. Not with Alejandro pressed up close behind you as he was. 

It didn't take long for your nose to go nearly numb, the cold wind seeping your warmth. No wonder the riders all wore leathers and fur up here. Your hands did go numb, fingers still clenched tight around the strap. 

“See? Not so bad, hmm?” Alejandro sounded smug, his voice rumbling against your back and in your ear, even as his breath warmed your skin. 

You just laughed, leaning back slightly, trusting him to keep you safe. 

And he did. 

You had no idea how long Caba flew the two of you. But he didn't go far into the valley before turning for the coast, making a big loop. From this height, you could see the town you'd left behind weeks ago, as well as a couple other garrisons, notable from the other dragons in the air. From this height, everything seemed small, even your lingering worries. 

Eventually, he angled back towards the garrison, gliding down at a gentle angle. Alejandro's hand at your waist encouraged you to lean back further, your back pressed to his chest, until Caba landed. The big dragon chuffed and continued walking, wings setting against his back again. 

You blinked, confused, but Alejandro just chuckled. “You're back early,” he called to someone up ahead, the hand on your waist tightening briefly. 

“For once,” another man called back. You spotted a dark-haired man standing up ahead, another scruffier man by his side. Caba stopped a short distance from the two, and Alejandro swung one leg over to face them. He did not get down, however. 

“Need a ride back to the capital, then?” 

“S'pose so,” the scruffier man answered, gaze on you. “You offering?”

Alejandro chuckled. “I will arrange it,” he said, though you noted he didn't offer to do it himself. “Come inside, have something to eat.” 

“Gonna introduce us?” The scruffier one asked, still peering up at you. 

“If we see you at dinner.” Alejandro didn't offer anything else as Caba started walking again, leaving the two men behind to make his way back to the cavern entrance. 

“Who were they?” You asked, undeniably curious now. 

“Nobody of import.” Alejandro waited for Caba to lay down again before he slid down the dragon's side. “Here. I'll help.” He held his hands up to you, watching closely. 

You eyed the distance down, biting your lip. He hadn't led you to harm yet. It did take a few moments to unclamp your hands, fingers aching from being locked in position for so long, but then you carefully swung a leg over and slid down. Alejandro caught you, making sure you didn't land too hard and holding you upright when your knees wobbled. 

“Alright?” He asked quietly, giving you a quick once-over. 

“Yeah.” You smiled up at him. “That was… incredible. Thank you.” 

“I will take you as often as you wish.” His smile was smaller than usual but brighter, happier. 

“You don't mind?” You couldn't help the note of hesitancy, of shyness. 

“Not if it's you.” He leaned closer to you, until you were firmly bracketed between Caba at your back and Alejandro at your front. 

Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close and so warm. 

Caba rumbled, something you felt more than heard, vibrating against your back. You startled, turning your head to try to figure out what was going on. 

Alejandro sighed and backed off. “Sit with me at dinner tonight,” he invited, gently taking hold of your hand, rubbing some of the ache from your fingers. 

“Okay,” you agreed, a little dazed still. 

He smiled again, that small but sincere smile you were quickly becoming attached to, and took a step back. Another, and he released your hand, and turned to go. 

You stood there, needing Caba's silent support, for longer than you wanted to admit.