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kirozai · 6 months ago

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—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you.

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened.

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine.

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment.

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though.

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you.

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy.

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy.

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate.

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses.

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage.

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain.

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him.

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter.

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck.

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves.

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit.

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate.

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though.

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you.

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

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midday-clouds · 7 months ago

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Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

There are many yandere batfam x neglected reader but I can't get enough of them--- So here is a silly story idea I have

I don't go into too much detail about how the reader is immortal but I'll probably share about it another timeee

CW: Neglect, Self-Degrading, Kidnapping, Violence(Being shot at), Blood, "Death"

Reader is a product of a hookup between Bruce and some random other woman, your mom

You and your mom had a decent relationship. The two of you would help each other out and have fun playing games. You were so content without knowing who your father was.

Your world begins to collapse when your mom doesn’t come home one day. A bunch of strange people suddenly come into your house and drag you out. You never understood what happened that day besides that you were now alone.

After your mother is announced dead, you find out that you are related to the millionaire, Bruce Wayne. You don’t know much about him but still find yourself put on the Wayne Manor's doorstep

Bruce had just gone through the loss of Jason and had just taken Tim in. He would have happily made some space in his schedule but a case always comes up and makes him forget about you.

Due to Bruce being too busy, you never properly mourned for your mother. Alfred would try to help you but you needed your dad.

For the first week, you locked yourself in your room, almost immediately forgotten by the rest of the family. Alfred would bring meals to your room, knowing that you aren't ready for any sort of interaction in this state.

Alfred tries to convince Bruce to prioritize your health but there is always a case that takes up all of his attention

After that first week, you become comfortable enough to try and get out of your room at least.

With you around the manor more, the family begins to see them more often but not enough to care.

All of them were busy being vigilantes and weren’t interested in connecting with you. Sure, don't mean to neglect you, but some criminals just don't know when to stop

This worsens your mental state, making them regret not trying to bond with their family earlier. If they had tried in the beginning, then maybe they would have made connections with your new family. Now it feels like they've lost their chance

Alfred would do his best to comfort you but he could only help so much.

When you met Dick, it was when he was stopping by to talk to Bruce. You both had a fun conversation together but that was it.

After that first interaction, you tried to talk to Dick more often when he stopped by, but it seems the first time was just lucky. Dick always had something that didn't allow for a quick chat,

Meeting Jason was honestly terrifying. You were in the kitchen when you heard some noise from outside. It's dark outside so you walk up to the window to see what the sound was

Because of the darkness outside and lights inside, you mainly just see your reflection when looking outside

You squint your eyes to try to see past the reflection when a red helmet pops up and frightened you

Falling onto the ground, you stare in shock at seeing the stranger open the window and step inside

Jason tries to relax your nerves by taking off his helmet, showing he isn't a threat. It doesn't help much when you don't even know who he is

He explains himself after seeing your confused look and you both end up having a small conversation. It was nice until Bruce came in and pulled Jason away.

You never seem to meet Jason again

There were very few instances where you interacted with Tim. Even though you lived in the same house, Tim was always busy.

You’d both exchange small greetings when seeing each other in the hall but that was it. You didn't want to disturb him so you never stopped by his room

you hoped that when Tim had free time, the two could hang out. However, Tim always made plans that you couldn't fit into

Sometimes you would hear that Tim has been playing a game with his friends and you would play it but by yourself.

After a couple of years, Damian enters the family and you were so excited

Because Damian was new to the family, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to bond with him

That didn't go well. He almost stabbed you

Your opinion of Damian was quick to go sour.

Damian's acts to show authority have gotten you scared of walking around the manor and frightened of animals. Specifically Titus.

It is quite unfortunate as you love animals and to have a dog in the family would bring you so much joy. Too bad Titus has attacked and chased you on multiple occasions

You didn't know what to do with the violence Damian had been taking out on you. You don't feel comfortable talking to Bruce and don't want to bother Alfred. This leads to you bottling up your emotions and locking yourself in your room

During your time, you spent reflecting on your life. Being in the manor isn't helping your mental health so it would be good to go outside more. Due to your constant attempts to bond with your family, you don't spend too much time with your friends from school

Seeing this as another perfect opportunity, you make plans with your friends to get out of the house and have a bit of self-care

Once the day comes, you quickly pack a small backpack and leave the house, only leaving a note for Alfred that says where you're at.

Finally getting some “fresh” air and being surrounded by those who feel more like family than your real family

You all have the best day and make plans for more get-togethers.

It may not be the safest to be out so often but you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, you know the safety procedures to stay safe. There isn't much news on you so people don't even recognize you as Bruce’s kid

Of course, something had to happen

You and your friends had just finished a fun day and you realize that your bike was stolen, meaning you don't have a way home. Your friends offered to take you home but you declined out of politeness. If something does go wrong, you ask your friends to call you to check up on you

Your walk home is longer than expected and it’s getting darker. As you walk through the streets of Gotham, you’re suddenly pulled into an alley and are threatened with a gun

There a three masked guys and one of them seems to have recognized you as Bruce’s kid, changing their plan to use you for ransom

You’re knocked out and taken to an abandoned building where you’re tied up to a pipe in the back

The kidnappers have a ransom letter and take it to the Wayne manor, including the small backpack you carried around

Unfortunately, Alfred was on his month-long vacation and Bruce was the one to receive the letter

He takes the time to contact "all" his kids and they're all perfectly fine and he doesn't recognize the backpack that was sent with the letter. There was a wallet but no ID card of any kind. The letter also didn't have a name on it.

Bruce brings up the case to the rest of the family but they agree that it may be a scam.

The letter was likely from some desperate person who was trying to trick Bruce into giving money so it was put on the side while the family worked on a bigger case.

Because of this, you’re held hostage for an unknown amount of days before the kidnappers get tired of waiting and shoot you in the gut out of frustration

You’re filled with immense pain from the bullet before darkness consumes you.

More days pass before you wake up, still tied to a pipe and blood stained clothes

It seems your kidnappers had left your body behind rather than getting rid of it. You’ve been struggling with the rope since you have been taken and it was paying off because you can see that you can almost get your hands free.

Once you're out of the building, it is midnight. You immediately run back to the manor the moment you find a family path.

No one is there to notice you make your way back to your room. Because of how long it's been, you don't leave a trail of blood. Maybe some dirt but hopefully it won't be too hard to clean up

You debate on what action to take next. Looking in the mirror, the injury from the bullet is gone and you don't want to go to the hospital

One thing that is clear though is that you are extremely hungry and how dirty you feel. With this on your mind, you do your best to clean yourself up before going down to the kitchen

You don't feel comfortable talking to anyone so thankfully the rest of the family is busy at night,

Once you are sure no one is around, you take a bunch of snacks and hurry back to your room

In your room, you eat everything until you finally feel full. Hopefully, you don't just throw everything up because it feels so nice to finally have something in your stomach

Your nerves begin to relax and you truly take in the events that happened

How are you still alive? You were shot and haven't had food for days. What happened? Did Bruce not get the ransom letter? Why did no one save you? Did your friends call you?

Quickly remembering your friends, you look for your phone but are unable to find it. Not wanting to worry your friends, you open up your laptop to contact your friends through there. You see that you've gotten multiple calls and messages from your friends and it honestly makes you happy, knowing that there were people that worried and cared about you. You quickly text your friends and tell them what happened (Not mentioning how you survived being shot)

During your chat, the topic changes to college stuff. Your senior year has just ended a couple of weeks ago and it would be good for you to move out and be closer to those that make you happy. Also, after the kidnapping, you don’t want to be near your current family. They were the reason you were kidnapped and didn’t even bother to help you

Your friends suggest going to college outside of Gotham, perhaps in Bludhaven.

After many years of being stuck in a family that does nothing but hurt you, you got an acceptance letter for a school in Bludhaven. You were so happy and had a small celebration with your friends. Unfortunately, none of your friends would be joining you but you couldn’t wait to truly be free.

Alfred returns from his vacation and reviews all the work that he left behind, along with Bruce’s mail. He knows Bruce has likely already reviewed them but it helps Alfred get back on pace with his work

He finds the discarded ransom letter and immediately checks up on you.

When he goes to your room, he finds the room empty besides some items that you weren’t planning to bring to college with you. This worries Alfred more and goes to Bruce’s office to confront him about the letter.

Bruce is filled with immense guilt when he realizes he forgot that you existed and now you could be dead in an abandoned building. Him and the rest of your family completely forgot about you

Bruce has an emergency meeting with everyone where he explains the situation. Once a plan is set, they all go out in the night to find you. However, they only find loose restraints with dried-up blood and a broken phone.

When the family returns to the manor, Tim goes to his room to fix the phone, Bruce and Damian go to the Batcave to review the cameras, Dick and Jason decide to visit your room

With Alfred’s help, Dick and Jason find your room and take a look around. It isn’t the biggest and barely has anything in it.

Jason finds some old and filled journals and looks through them. There is a checklist for school work, notes to yourself, and personal entries. He understands the emotions you put in your journal and wants to protect you. Especially when he reads your last entry about your kidnapping

Dick looks at the decorations you have on the wall. There are some glow-in-the-dark stars, some posters from school events, etc. One of the posters is for a theater show and he wonders if you were a part of it. Either an actor or tech person, Dick wonders why he never heard about your shows. He attempts to take a poster off the wall but the tape used peeled some of the paint off the wall.

Bruce loads up the camera and looks at what happened the day the ransom letter was given to Bruce. You had this happy smile as you made sure you had everything you needed before going through the front door. About a week later, Bruce sees you on the camera, in bloodied clothes and completely exhausted. This brings a wave of relief to Bruce while Damian looks closely at the camera footage. The front of your shirt is covered in blood and has a hole in it, but you seem completely uninjured.

The last thing the two see of you is you slowly taking your stuff out of the manor and officially moving out

Bruce and Damian find your room to update Dick and Jason on their findings.

They’re thankful that you’re alive but still need to see you in the flesh. Looking around your bedroom, there aren't many clues about where you have gone.

Tim takes a few days to fix the damage on your phone. At the very least, he needs to save the data that was kept on the phone. After messing with a few parts of your phone, he transfers all the data to his computers.

Once everything is saved, Tim lets his curiosity get the best of him and looks through all of your stuff before informing the rest of the family. All your photos, text messages, etc. He sees all the calls and voicemails your friends sent you on the day you were kidnapped.

Tim continues to learn more about your interests and your efforts to spend time with the family. You ranting to your friends about only playing a game or reading a book because someone in the family has read or played it.

Tim ends up having a copy of all your data for personal use before speaking to the rest of the family

Your phone is finally fixed and Tim can use it to find the location of your laptop. All the way in Bludhaven

With new hope, the family begins their search for you

They just need to take you home and keep you safe

Forever

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #platonic yandere #neglected reader #yandere dc

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frostedfragments · 2 months ago

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calling dr zayne! ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 2.2k words ✧.* only fans au summary: dr zayne stumbles across his favourite patient's onlyfans account warnings!: zayne breaks some rules!!!, masturbation, use of a sex toy, voyeurism note: couldn't help but imagine an au where zayne doesn't know you and you wind up as his patient...and breaks a couple of dr oaths lol note2: ive' never seen the of website so if the mechanics of it are innacurate pls ignore and lets stay playful together

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

There’s only so many online medical articles one can read before they need some mindless doom scrolling. It’s not often Zayne logs into his social media accounts, he much prefers to spend his small amount of free time reading or hiking, but he can’t resist catching up on what his friends and family are posting on Instagram. He doesn’t see them nearly as often as he should, and it’s the small trickle of guilt down his throat that has him scrolling on his computer, smiling when he sees a couple photos of his parents on their holiday, his co-workers on a night out he declined to join them on, and the occasional cat video.

He’s not sure how he finds it, but the explore page is such an overstimulating mess of faces and bodies that he usually avoids it completely. It’s only because his hand twitches that he even sees the post in the first place, but he looks. And continues to look.

The woman in the photo doesn’t show her face, just the long line of her neck and the soft, plumpness of her cleavage in a bra that leaves little to the imagination. He briefly wonders how a picture like this is allowed on the app, but he’s soon clicking on the profile before he can stop himself, intrigued by smooth skin and little else. He is still a man after all, and once he is exposed to the abundance of tantalising images on the woman’s profile, he is reminded how long it has been since he had his hands on a woman.

His favourite patient doesn’t count, he thinks reflexively, frowning that the thought even crept into his mind at all. You’ve been his patient for roughly six months now; you’ve had a heart condition all your life, one that is well-managed and non-life threatening, but still needs regular monitoring. Your previous heart doctor passed away, and so your case was given to Zayne.

He tries to shake the memory of your face out of his mind as he glances through the pictures, having every intention of clicking out of the woman’s profile and logging off for the evening. Maybe even taking a shower to rid his body from this sudden thrum of energy that radiates low in his stomach, but a link in the bio of the profile catches his eye. Snags his attention like a siren, luring him in with the promise of more, and he almost feels as if he’s doing something illegal when he clicks on it.

OnlyFans isn’t completely new to Zayne - there are a few colleagues he knows who watch adult content on the site, though he mistakenly always thought it was a place where fetish content lived. Feet videos, women humiliating men on camera, food play - not really his taste. But when the link has loaded, and racier images of the woman appear, Zayne feels his cock twitch, feels it begin to fill out as his eyes graze the image of the woman laying on a bed, back arched, breasts displayed beautifully in a black lace bra which leaves her pert, pink nipples completely uncovered.

God, he needs to get laid or something. He hasn’t had the time to date, or even the energy to masturbate, always exhausted from multiple surgeries in one day or typing up notes from said surgeries. His body reminds him now of the necessity to release all the pent up tension that collects in his spine, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over the bulge in his slacks, sighing softly at the instant swell of pleasure.

His eyes dart back up to the screen, a flush warming his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he makes an account anyway before he can stop himself, typing in his credit card information and subscribing to the woman who seems to have come out of nowhere and locked in his attention with just a few pictures of her body.

Once he has full access to the page, he scrolls through picture after picture, some more explicit than others. When he reaches the video section, he notices one posted just a few hours ago titled watch me cum while i think about him. The thumbnail shows the woman in a pale pink lingerie set, plush thighs wrapped in white, lace stockings as she sits demurely on white bed sheets. Her neck, chin and full mouth are all that is visible of her face, and Zayne’s gut tenses as he moves the mouse over, clicking play on the video.

His speakers hum with the sound of the video as the woman walks towards the bed, sitting down and smiling softly. Her lips are glossy with a balm or something, and Zayne resigns himself to his base need, slowly unbuckling his belt as the girl shuffles back on the bed slightly.

“Hi guys,” Her voice filters through the speakers, and Zayne frowns, though he can’t think what it is about the voice that makes him pause, “I just got home, and I saw my favourite doctor today. Obviously, though you’ve all been asking, I can’t say his name, but just trust me when I say he’s…so fine,”

Zayne’s hand pulls down the zipper of his slacks, licking his lips, watching closely as she trails her hands over her skin that already looks flushed with arousal. The bra barely contains her full breasts, nipples already straining against the thin fabric. He needs to see them, his hands feel empty with the need to fill his palms with their softness, and he dips into his briefs to pull out his cock, already hard and red at the tip.

The woman has barely touched herself yet, and he feels so pent up he might come before she even gets started.

Reaching over, the woman grabs what looks to be a pink sleep mask, hands disappearing out of frame before she sits back on her elbows, her full face in frame, half covered by the mask. She rolls onto her tummy as she stretches across the mattress again, the sounds of a drawer opening and closing. Her ass is almost bare, round and soft in a matching pink thong. Zayne let’s his hand stroke experimentally over his dick, exhaling shakily.

The girl is back facing the camera now, long hair fanning out over the sheets. It has Zayne pausing again, the first shiver of alarm running through his spine as he spots something on her hip. A tattoo.

The same tattoo his new patient has. But surely, it’s just a coincidence. Maybe you and this girl just have similar taste. He pauses his movements, still as stone while his brain works overtime to avoid the truth of the situation.

By now the girl, or as Zayne realises with a start, you are fully spread out on the mattress. Your legs move restlessly, like you’re so turned on you can’t stay still, and Zayne’s eyes close at the way the thought sits heavy in his groin, balls tightening as his hand squeezes the base of his dick.

He absolutely cannot do this, he cannot watch a video of a patient writhing around on their bed in nothing but their lingerie. The item you had pulled out, a sizable pink dildo, is laying by your thigh, and there is no question between that and the title about what is about to happen. But then you start speaking again, and Zayne is forced to open his eyes at the sound of your voice.

“Will you guys stay with me?” Your voice is breathier now, and you lick your lips when your hand palms a breast. Zayne’s jaw clenches, “I’ve needed to come all day since my appointment. My doctor has such big hands, it’s so fucking hot -” You gasp, fingers twisting a nipple through your bra, and Zayne’s thighs tense, a thick bead of precum dribbling down his cock at the idea that you’re about to think of him while you fuck yourself.

He must be fucking dreaming. Or maybe it’s a nightmare, given that he’s breaking every single possible rule right now by not clicking out of this video. But his dick is almost throbbing in his hand now, and he can’t rip his eyes away from the screen when your hand trails over your stomach, fingers slipping under the elastic of your thong. Your hand presses back against the mattress as you moan softly.

“I’ve been wet the whole way home,” You whine, “His voice, it’s so deep and soft. And his eyes; he watches me like he could ruin me if he wanted to. I can’t stop thinking about him,”

Zayne loses the battle against his entire brain screaming at him that this is wrong, this is a terrible idea. That he needs to stop. But he can’t, how is he supposed to stop when you’re rocking against your hand, lips parted to accommodate the ragged breaths and throaty sounds you make. He strokes himself, all the air leaving his lungs.

Your other hand reaches down to your thigh where the dildo sits, forgotten, and you smile as you hold it up to the camera, “I chose my biggest one for tonight. I want to imagine him fucking - ah - fucking me,”

“Oh, fuck,” He grits, other hand gripping the arm of his desk chair. His balls ache, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, watching you with half-open eyes as you shimmy out of the thong.

“How much do you want to see?” Zayne almost thinks you’re speaking directly to him, and it feels that way with the intimate hum of your voice. Maybe you are, maybe you’re imagining him doing this right now. Breaking every rule and fucking his hand while you shift on the bed, facing away from the camera and falling forward to reveal your soaked, pink pussy and the tight hole above. Zayne’s teeth nearly bite right through his lower lip when your hand reaches back, small fingers pushing right inside.

His hand speeds up, the slick sounds filling the room alongside your moans, and he wishes you were right here with him. He wishes that instead of removing your fingers and sliding the dildo through your folds, that you were here, bouncing on his cock.

You sit up slightly, looking over your shoulder as you place the dildo at your entrance. Your lips curl into a smile, “I don’t even need any lube tonight. I’m so fucking wet,”

“Yeah, you are,” Zayne murmurs to himself, half-mad with desire to see you be filled up. Even if he can’t be the one to do it, his teeth ache as he clenches his jaw, waiting for you to sink down onto that silicone, imagining it's him.

Teeth pressed into your soft lower lip, you slowly take every inch of the dildo, thighs trembling slightly, enough to make the skin of your ass ripple a bit. When you raise your hips up again, the silicone is shiny with your need, and Zayne’s mouth is watering, his fist jerking almost too fast. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, but when you start to bounce it’s too late to slow down. You’re almost moving at the same pace as his hand, and he groans, falling back into the seat so he can jerk his hips up a little, fantasising that he’s under you, that you’re taking him like a good girl would.

“Oh, god,” You whimper, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself like a melody through Zayne’s speakers, “s-so big, oh he’s so big, I know it -,”

“Shit,” Zayne digs his nails into his thigh to stop himself from coming. There’s sweat running down his chest now, and he reaches up to undo his tie, tossing it to the ground. He can barley breathe, his cock so wet it’s almost like he’s actually fucking you.

“F-fuck- I waited all day for this. Since I left his - hng - office. God, I want him to fuck me on the desk. I bet he would be so good, so rough. Oh god, please,” You’re no longer bouncing on the dildo, instead grinding your hips on it, skin dewy and flushed red, “God, I’m gonna come, oh - oh, fuck -”

Zayne is shaking, his hand almost cramping from how fast he’s dragging it along his cock. His balls give a warning throb before he flicks his eyes up to see you coming with him, your thighs twitching, hips moving jaggedly as you continue to grind down on the fake cock. He twists his wrist at the head of his length and groans loudly, closing his eyes, imagining you’re coating his dick, coming all over it. His cum stains his fingers and his white shirt, chest dropping harshly with every breath he drags in. His body feels weightless, eyes heavy, and he opens them to watch as you roll over on the bed, on your back with your legs parted, showing him and the camera the mess you’ve made.

Zayne’s cock twitches back to life at the thought of cleaning you up with his tongue.

Before he closes the video, he watches till the end. Stares at the way you slowly come back down to earth, sleepily stretching and grinning at the camera, voice hoarse, “Thank you, doctor,” you giggle, before the screen goes black, and Zayne is left to stare at his sweaty, fucked out expression in the reflection.

“Fuck,” He says.

#love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deespace ff #lads ff #l&ds ff #love and deepspace smut #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #zayne smut #zayne fanfic #zayne ff

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months ago

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Feel free to ignore if this is too heavy but ive been feeling low and i wonder...

How would the 141 help their SO through a breakdown? Like hyperventilating and crying? How would they talk them down?

Again, if you dont want to write this i completely understand. Much love

It's not too heavy, and I know I'm fairly delayed on getting to this. I hope you're feeling better than when you sent this to my inbox. You're in my thoughts, anon. <3

written with gn!reader

Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort

Out of all of them, Ghost is the most understanding, and the calmest in this situation. Maybe it’s because of his own trauma, or the fact that he’s struggled with own mental health, but there’s no judgment here. There is also no rush to try and tell you to “calm down.” Ghost might be a bit of a weirdo, but he knows how to read the room. He’s not going to immediately lovebomb you. What he will do, is give you space, to speak calmly to you, to be the anchor you need when you feel like you’re sinking.

While Soap is supportive, he’s the least likely of the bunch to get this right. Doesn’t mean he won’t try. The tears and anxiety aren’t going to scare him away, but it’ll create an internal panic inside him all on its own. That’s not your fault, he just doesn’t like to see you cry. He hates it when you’re hurting because Soap knows he’s not always going to be able to fix it. While he enjoys physical touch, he might be more hesitant in this situation to completely wrap you up in his arms until you’re calmer. One thing that you can completely rely on is that Soap is a yapper. He will try to talk you through it, even cracking jokes if it helps distract you.

It's Price that might sway either way. The breakdown could surprise him, throw him off a bit, but this man has quick recovery. He’s used to extremely stressful situations and making changes on the fly. Don’t expect him to be perfect though, or even promptly take the correct actions. If anything, he might freeze up if the breakdown is unexpected. He might stumble through getting to where he needs to be to support you. But he will do his best, making sure he’s by your side, trying to keep you calm and collected, to make sure you know how much he loves and cares for you.

A breakdown doesn’t last long with Kyle around. This man has it down to a science, especially if it has happened before. You know you can be completely vulnerable and open with him, that Kyle is comfortable seeing you at your worst and won’t judge you for it. There is nothing more comforting or calming than Kyle’s presence. This man is nothing but soothing words and gentle touches. He’ll let you press you face into his chest, snotty nose and all, and won’t bat an eye. He’ll hold you if that’s what you need or sit beside you if you require space. If you don’t want him to talk at all and just want him to listen, he’ll do that too.

main masterlist

#task force 141 #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #task force 141 x reader #ghost cod #soap cod #gaz cod #price cod #cod headcanons #call of duty headcanons #task force 141 headcanons #cod #cw: angst

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maskedbyghost · 4 months ago

Text

Recovery

Summary: When Simon Riley is injured in combat and left temporarily paralyzed, his world is turned upside down. Forced to take time away from Task Force, he struggles with the loss of his independence and his own demons. His live-in nurse, hired to help him through his recovery, quickly becomes a point of frustration and comfort. Will Simon let himself heal not just physically, but emotionally—and open his heart to the one person determined to stay by his side? A big thank you to @daydreamerwoah for this idea <3 TW: Contains themes of physical injury, emotional distress, and recovery, as well as potentially explicit content. Reader discretion is advised. Word count: 3.5 k

The first thing Simon felt when he woke up was nothing.

A deep, awful nothing stretching from the waist down. A void that seemed to scream louder than any pain. He couldn’t lift his legs. Couldn’t feel them beneath the scratchy hospital sheets.

His throat was dry as sand when he tried to speak, and his hand instinctively went to tug the oxygen mask off. It didn’t take long for the rustle of movement beside him to sound—a chair scraping the floor, boots tapping forward. Familiar boots.

“Don’t do that, mate.”

John’s voice reached him before his blurred vision cleared. When it did, Simon wished it hadn’t.

Price sat at his bedside in that worn field jacket, arms folded, concern etched into every hard line of his face. It was worse, somehow, seeing the worry in a man who always had a plan, who never cracked when the odds were against them. Soap and Gaz hovered by the foot of the bed, not looking at Simon.

“Where…” Simon’s voice rought, catching in his throat. He managed one more word. “How?”

He meant the mission. The fire. The explosion—the light that cut across his vision before black. He remembered dragging Soap to cover while fire broke like thunder. After that... there was nothing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Price shook his head. “Mission got done. You’re here, and that’s the bloody miracle.”

Simon’s gaze cut toward his legs—or where his legs were supposed to be, covered now with too-crisp white sheets. He wiggled his fingers, feeling them clench around the fabric, rough against his palms. The hope flickered for only a second before it hollowed out completely.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

“Don’t pull that stoic shite right now,” Soap muttered suddenly. Gaz gave him a warning glance, but the words were already out there.

Simon stayed silent.

Pathetic.

The word stuck to his ribs like rust. The Ghost himself—useless. For a while, no one said anything. They couldn’t. What the hell was there to say?

By the time Price spoke up again, Simon had memorized every whir of the IV drip and every beep of the monitor at his bedside.

“Simon, listen to me.” Price straightened in his chair. “Doctors say the paralysis might be temporary. Not permanent. It’s the spinal cord—they think with physical therapy, you’ve got a chance.”

“A chance,” Simon echoed. He shifted the blanket over his lap, arms tense at his sides.

“Time and effort, that’s all,” Price replied. “We’re gonna get you back to yourself, alright?”

Simon wanted to scoff, to point out how that chair practically laughed at him from across the room. Back to himself? It sounded like a joke. The Ghost doesn’t limp into a mission—he damn well doesn’t roll.

Soap, who hadn’t spoken since earlier, scratched awkwardly at his buzzed scalp and managed a small grin. “We’ll chip in, mate. You’ll get tired of us pushin’ you around. Gaz already called dibs on who gets to drop you off curbs.”

Gaz sighed in irritation, shaking his head. “Jesus, Soap.”

And for a moment, Simon wanted to laugh. He didn’t, of course, but the heaviness settled just enough for him to reach for the water glass that had been set by the bed. Price moved faster, though, nudging Simon’s shaky arm out of the way before handing him the glass himself.

It pissed him off more than he could admit.

“Enough,” Simon muttered. He took one swig of water before practically shoving it back at Price. “Go.”

Price frowned. “Simon—”

“I’m fine.” Simon cut him off flatly, voice sharp. “Don’t you lot have a mission to fuck off to?”

There it was—thinly veiled venom that couldn’t hide what was really festering beneath it: shame, isolation. 141 still had their legs under them, the freedom to walk away without that mocking squeak of metal.

The silence dragged until Price finally stood. He stared hard at Simon like he wanted to argue but knew better. Simon was still Simon, and orders wouldn’t change how he felt.

“We’ll be back,” Price said as he tugged on his cap. “Behave.”

Soap hesitated before walking off, his hand landing briefly on Simon’s shoulder as he passed. Simon didn’t move. Gaz offered one more lingering look from the doorway before he shut it behind him.

Hours passed. Or minutes. Maybe days.

The doctors tried to explain his recovery timeline when they checked in, though Simon absorbed none of it. Words like spinal impact, therapy, and patience didn’t mean a damn thing when you had to stare at your own traitorous legs refusing to move.

By the time you, his nurse, arrived, Simon already had a bitter response loaded on his tongue.

“No.”

You raised an unimpressed brow at him, clipboard in hand.

“You don’t get to fire me,” you said, ticking something off the chart. “Captain Price hired me himself.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“And yet here I am.” You tucked the clipboard under your arm, looking down at him like he wasn’t the intimidating Ghost that made entire platoons piss themselves. It was jarring—annoyingly so.

“Let me make something very clear.” Simon glared at you, before continuing. “I don’t need a fucking nurse.”

You stared him down like it wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a man who thought himself stronger than he was. “That’s the pride talking.”

The conversation ended on that note—his glare, your silence.

Alone again, Simon sank lower into the bed, feeling rage crawl under his skin. No legs, no control. And now a bloody nurse babysitting him?

It wouldn’t last, he told himself. Nothing did.

But he had no idea then, not even a clue, that you would be the person who stayed.

Simon Riley hated you.

Well, not you, exactly. It wasn’t personal—not in the beginning. It was the idea of you that grated on him like nails against glass. The nurse—his nurse—represented everything he despised. His weakness. His uselessness. His loss of control.

You refused to let him sit in silence, stubborn enough to ignore the heat of his glares when you’d sweep into the room each morning, clipboard in hand and professional cheer etched onto your features.

“Morning, Riley,” you would greet him each time, and he swore you got some twisted pleasure out of pretending he wasn’t already scowling at you.

“Fuck off.” Was his only reply.

“I’ll write that on your chart—improving vocabulary.”

You always said something. Whether it was to push back, joke, or break up the air in the room.

Simon wouldn’t let you win, though—not at first. The harder you pushed, the colder he became. You tried to lift him out of bed? He did his best impression of a statue. You set up basic stretching exercises? He would be sarcastic until you folded your arms with the patience of a goddamn saint and calmly reminded him the exercises weren’t optional.

You gave him no ground. No pity. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to strangle you, or on his worst days thank you.

One day, it had been a bad morning. Worse than usual.

Simon’s exercises were taking longer to yield even the smallest progress. He was so frustrated that he could hardly breathe. The phantom weight of his legs, his inability to move without someone’s damn help—it made his teeth grind and fists clench to the point of white knuckles.

You were there again, patient in the small room they’d converted into a temporary rehab area—white walls, artificial light, and the scent of disinfectant.

“You need to lift, Simon,” you said, standing in front of his wheelchair with your hands on your hips. “You’re improving. You just need to—”

“I need fuck all.” His voice was sharp. “Jesus Christ, you deaf? You’re wasting your time.”

You froze, eyes narrowing at him with something dangerously close to disappointment.

“You’re angry,” you replied, your voice calm. “But this doesn’t go away just because you ignore it, Simon.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Oh, spare me the motivational speech, sweetheart. What? You think a few stretches and cheerleading will get me crawling back onto a mission? Gonna teach me how to live happily ever after in this fucking chair?” He hissed the word—chair—like it poisoned his mouth.

His fists ground into the arms of the wheelchair.

Something flickered in your eyes. Before he could toss another bite of venom your way, you closed the distance between you and dropped to your knees—eye level now, your faces inches apart.

Simon didn’t move. Didn’t flinch, but he stared.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like I pity you.” Your voice was low. “You think I haven’t seen men like you before? Men who think anger makes the world listen?”

Simon’s jaw ticked, his breathing slow.

“You think this doesn’t scare me?” you pressed on, your gaze burning straight through him. “The weight of what I’m asking? Pushing you past what your body wants? I’m terrified every day I’ll say the wrong thing and make you stop.”

The air in the room shifted. Stopped.

Simon froze—just for a second. It wasn’t the words, exactly, but the fear beneath them. This wasn’t pity. It wasn’t shallow encouragement either. There was something real tangled up in what you’d said.

He didn’t answer you—not because he couldn’t think of one, but because no words would fit. Instead, he dropped his gaze and pressed his palms hard into the chair's wheels, turning himself away.

“Enough.” His voice was low.

You sighed but didn’t press him further. That was the first day you called a truce.

Simon didn’t realize when the fights had stopped.

The nurse—your name slipped out eventually, though he’d never say it aloud—was still there, day after day. The arguing faded into tense silences, which somehow became your routine. Sometimes, when you helped him maneuver into his chair or reposition his legs, your fingers would brush against him. Just a second of touch. A heat curled behind his ribs before he shoved it down where he buried everything else.

He hated needing your help.

But, God forgive him, it didn’t feel as awful as before.

One afternoon, after yet another stretching session, you sat on the floor next to his chair, clipboard abandoned beside you. Your head tilted back against the wall, and with a faint exhale, you rubbed at your neck.

“You don’t seem tired,” he muttered.

The words slipped out before he could stop them. You lifted a brow, looking up at him curiously.

“What?”

“You act like all this doesn’t wear you down,” he replied, gesturing vaguely toward his legs. Maybe it was the post-exercise exhaustion. Or maybe it was the quiet between them now that wasn’t quite as miserable as it had been weeks ago.

“I signed up for this, Simon.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

Silence again. When you glanced up at him fully, your smile wasn’t mocking or cocky this time.

“No. But it’s worth it.”

Simon didn’t let himself think about why those words echoed behind his ribs long after you left that night.

Their fights weren’t completely gone, of course. You would snap at one another like wolves when frustrations rose too high.

But one evening, when you helped him shift in his seat after his legs had been deadweight for hours, Simon froze. Just a second. Just long enough to feel your hands at his waist—steady and strong against his scarred skin—and notice.

The way you exhaled softly when you moved him. The way you looked straight at him when he stiffened—your eyes determined, never breaking like others did.

“There. Comfortable?”

He should’ve muttered a sharp, one-word reply. Instead, his voice came quieter than he meant:

“Yeah.”

In that tiny sliver of peace after the long-fought battles between you, Simon realized something strange. He still hated your presence in his life, hated needing you… but not in the way he used to.

And it terrified him worse than any battlefield he’d ever faced.

You noticed the change in Simon the moment the doors of the small house closed behind you. He might’ve been the same person—quiet, short-tempered—but here, outside the clinical walls of the rehab facility, something felt different.

This was his space. A glimpse into the life he'd kept carefully walled off from everyone.

Simon had needed help transitioning from the hospital, and somehow you were the one still here. What was meant to be a few nights stretched into weeks, your things tucked into a guest bedroom that was clean but cold, untouched like the rest of the house.

He didn’t stop you from unpacking or making meals or gently steering him through his day. But he didn’t make it easy either.

It had been a difficult day for him. You’d noticed it early—his shoulders tighter than usual, his movements stiff. Every attempt you made to coax him into his routine was met with an edge. You gave him as much room as you could until he made it impossible to leave things be.

Simon was in the living room, positioned near the window as rain slid down the glass in slow, uneven lines. You stood behind him for a moment, hesitant to interrupt the silence. He’d barely spoken all day, but his grip on the armrests of his wheelchair told you everything you needed to know.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, stepping into the space beside him.

He didn’t turn to look at you. “What’s there to talk about?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t owe you one.” His voice was sharp.

“Maybe not,” you said evenly, “but you’re miserable. It’s not helping either of us to ignore it.”

His shoulders stiffened, and his hands tightened on the armrests even more. He let out a long, rough exhale, tilting his head back against the chair.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” His tone wasn’t angry this time; it was hollow. “Every day, it’s the same. Same exercises. Same useless questions. Same people pretending I’ve got a fucking chance.”

You frowned, pulling a chair over to sit directly across from him. “Nobody’s pretending, Simon. Least of all me.”

He laughed bitterly. “Oh, come on. What, you think if you cheer me on enough, I’ll forget I can’t even move my own fucking legs?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you said calmly. “But it’d help if you stopped biting my head off long enough to actually make some progress.”

His gaze finally snapped to yours, full of frustration. “Progress? This is it. Sitting in this bloody chair, waiting for it to magically fix itself while the rest of my life just... stops.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” You leaned forward, forcing him to hold your gaze. “It hasn’t stopped. It’s slowed, sure—but you’re the one keeping it from moving forward.”

He scoffed. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you said. “But I’m here anyway. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you bark and growl.”

Simon blinked at you, clearly taken off guard by the bluntness in your tone. He sat back slightly, running a hand over his face. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, surprised by the question.

His jaw clenched, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Because everyone else moved on. Left me behind. Doesn’t make sense why you haven’t done the same.”

“Because I’m not them,” you replied simply. “Because you don’t deserve to be left alone to rot in here like you keep convincing yourself you do.”

Simon didn’t answer right away. His expression was hard to read. Finally, he shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

You smiled faintly, relieved to see even the smallest crack in his armor. “And you’re a pain in the ass.”

That earned the barest hint of a chuckle from him, the sound low and rough but genuine. For the first time in weeks, it felt like neither of you were losing the fight.

It had been raining all day, and Simon was in his chair by the living room window again, staring out at nothing. His mood had been more tolerable after your conversation, but this—this next part—was bound to ruin that truce.

“We need to take care of your shower,” you said, keeping your voice as neutral as possible.

Simon shifted slightly, still gazing outside. “I can skip it.”

“Skipping it isn’t an option,” you replied, standing firm. You expected maybe another excuse, but he just sighed and pushed his chair backward with a sharp shove of his hands on the wheels.

He didn’t say a word as you guided him toward the bathroom, he hated needing help like this; he didn’t even bother hiding that fact. You tried not to think too hard about it, about how deeply it hurt his pride to rely on someone for this level of care.

Inside, the bathroom was small but practical. You had already set up the necessary equipment: a shower bench, towels folded neatly on the counter, and grab bars mounted on the tiles. But it didn’t change what was about to happen.

“You’ll need to take off your clothes,” you said, looking anywhere but at him.

Simon turned his head slightly toward you. “Figured that much out myself.”

You bit back the response sitting on your tongue. “I’ll help steady you once you’re ready,” you added instead, keeping the professionalism intact.

The rasp of his movements filled the room as he worked on shrugging out of his hoodie. When it got caught around his shoulders, you reached instinctively to help, freezing when he flinched.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered.

It was a slow process, his injury making even small tasks difficult. You busied yourself with adjusting the water temperature, but there was no way to avoid noticing when he finally managed to pull his hoodie and shirt off. His broad chest, riddled with scars and tattoos, caught your gaze for a second longer than it should have. You forced yourself to look away, biting down on the edge of your lower lip as your face heated.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself silently.

“Problem?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“No,” you said too quickly, busying yourself with handing him a towel to place over his lap before helping him move.

Simon caught the hesitation in your movement and raised a brow, his face shifting to faint amusement. “Haven’t you done this before?”

You refused to take the bait, stepping behind him to help support his transfer to the bench. “With far more cooperative patients, yes.”

He didn’t make a comment after that, leaning on you just enough to get himself in place. His skin was warm against yours where your hands pressed to steady him, and you found yourself hyperaware of every subtle flex of muscle beneath your touch.

Once he was settled, you adjusted the showerhead and stepped back, taking a moment to breathe while he wet his hair. But of course, the towel across his lap was already damp and clinging to the sharp angles of his thighs.

Stop. Thinking. About. It.

Simon was oddly quiet, letting you rinse shampoo from his hair without protest. His usual scowl was softened by the heat of the shower, and for the first time since you’d met him, he seemed... at peace. His breathing slowed, the lines in his face easing as your hands worked through his hair.

When you reached to adjust the handheld showerhead, your elbow brushed his shoulder, and you swore you felt him stiffen just slightly. You froze, heart pounding, and quickly stepped back, pretending nothing happened.

Simon’s eyes opened then, and he looked at you for a long moment before saying anything. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Your lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Just trying to avoid you biting my head off later.”

His smirked. “You’re doing alright, nurse.”

The unexpected softness in his voice caught you off guard. You felt heat creeping up your neck and busied yourself again with rinsing his arms and chest. But the light in his eyes lingered, and you caught the faintest glimmer of... something.

Interest.

You couldn’t stay here too long—near his warmth, his edges softening just enough to draw you in. This wasn’t supposed to feel intimate, wasn’t supposed to make your chest tighten. But there you were, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, your fingertips lingering just a second too long before stepping back.

“All done,” you said quickly, grabbing a dry towel from the counter.

Simon let out a low breath and nodded, tilting his head back slightly. “Thanks,” he muttered.

You helped him move again, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of your shirt as he leaned on you. It wasn’t until you left him to dry off that you let yourself exhale fully, feeling the rapid thrum of your heart settle into something steadier.

You might’ve been the one helping him, but there were moments like these where it felt like Simon had all the control.

PART 2

-------------------------------------------

There will be one more part to this story, so watch out for that :)

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #cod simon riley #cod #cod mw2

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

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hi i see that you have much smart dog experience. i may have accidentally purchased such a dog. she's only 10 weeks, and ive had her 1, and she's already outmatched every puzzle feeder i got or have made. to the point that she is morosely disappointed when her food comes in an actual food bowl. do you know where i can find like. "heres 100 enrichment toys you can make out of free trash so your dog stops eating fucking rocks for enrichment" lists. i only have so many paper towel tubes XD

Herschel now just disassembles puzzle feeders, so I've been focusing on "Toys that, even if he already knows how to operate them, will still take TIME for him to collect the treat from" to give him something to fuss with.

Herschel eats all his meals out of a Kong Wobbler, because he will otherwise eat so fast he will literally inhale and choke on his kibble and I do not need him developing pneumonia from aspiration. Even though it's a "Simple" toy it slows him down and he does have to think a bit to tip it in the most efficient manner possible. Kong's "Flipz", "Gyro" and "Rewards Wally" are also really good "dog needs to think/carefully manipulate the toy for food" toys that act as both mental stimulation and exercise and "give human a break for up to twelve minutes" toys.

I highly reccomend KONG as a brand- they're local to Denver and have an impeccable saftey record and all of the toys I have gotten from them have held up extremely well vs. the ravages of three entirely too smart and strong-jawed dogs at once.

Some more thoughts:

If she's not prone to shredding rubber, the kind of treat toys she has to chew are also good stimulation.

If you don't want to give her That Many treats, my vet said that dogs can have as many green beans as they want. Just make sure that the beans haven't had salt added to them- canned usually does, but frozen green beans usually don't, but always check the label.

You can make nearly any toy last longer, or make a cheap long-puzzle by freezing the treats so they take longer to eat AND provides hydration. Herschel's most favorite treat of all time is literally a wad of sliced green beans in a dixie cup, filled with water and frozen. Just peel off the cup and hand him the chunk of ice and he's good for up to half an hour and more chill afterwards.

You can also freeze lick mats

If your girl is like Charlie and doesn't like greenbeans, you can also try freezing paper cups of: Canned pumpkin, apple slices in water, putting some ice cubes in the bottom of the cup, a gob of peanut butter in the middle and then fill it with water to make a peanutbutter filled ice cube.

If your girl is REALLY like charlie who has figured out how to use labor negotiation and strike tactics for better treats: boiled chicken chunks frozen in some of the water you boiled them in.

Walkies are as much mental stimulation as they are physical exercise. Take her out and let her sniff to her heart's content.

Also Puppies in particular need like, SO MUCH exercise.

Let her participate in activities with you. Herschel and charlie sit in the kitchen and I narrate cooking dinner to them, which seems to interest them, even if I don't have spare veggie ends to give them. I also frequently bring them along in the car if I'm running errands when it's cold enough to do that, so they have something new to look at, and get to participate. I also am more likely to stop at a new park and give myself some exercise and mental stimulation.

Training her to do tasks is GREAT Smart Dog enrichment- esp if she's a herding or heeler, they LOVE being helpful. I taught the dogs they get a small treat if they come in from the yard without me having to go chase them down, which saved me a lot of hassle, and now I'm working on teaching herschel to pick things up off the floor for me if I drop them and alert for chickpeas, which my housemate is allergic to.

A lot of dogs like cat-type toys. Tie a stick or some fleece to some paracord and drag or flycast it around for her to chase/play tug with when she catches it. Toys that bounce unexpectedly were also a huge hit. or just wave the string around the cat and the corgi both like that.

If you live in farm country or know other people with pets, you can grab something with the scent of another animal on it and bring it home for her to smell. Charlie and Herschel spent the better part of three days investigating the wad of horse undercoat I brought home and put in the spare wobbler for them to smell.

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kilojulietsierra · 25 days ago

Text

Send Me An Angel - Chapter Two (Dr Jack Abbot x nursewife!ofc)

Summary : What do you do after a night like that?

If you missed Chapter One CLICK HERE

(Seriously, I can’t thank y’all enough for the love that chapter one received! Made my whole week!)

Warnings: 18+ content, depiction of a PTSD episode/panic attack, also depiction of two people who love each other handling the situation appropriately, angst, fluff, smut, just a tiny hint of kink mentioned if you know where to look (competency, d/s role play), dark humor, heathy communication, they talk a little shit but they love each other so much

~~~~~~~

The Next Day

Sam knelt down in front of the woman in the wheelchair, "Ok hon, that should kick in here in a second and you'll feel better okay?"

The woman nodded, her whole body still trembled, but her breaths were a little more even. "Thank," she gasped in a breath with a stutter, "You."

"Of course." Sam gave her hand a squeeze and stood up, "Keep breathing okay, deep breaths, and we'll have you out of here soon." She looked over the lacerations on her leg one more time before she moved on.

Bridget met her in the hallway, and they exchanged a look as they both surveyed the ED. "We're starting to get 'em cleared out."

Sam nodded as she snapped her gloves off. The whole department was still a disaster, dozens of patients remained and the EVS staff was busy mopping up as much of the blood as they could. "What else do you need?"

The night shift charge nurse, put her hands on her hips, "I need you to go home."

"There's still…"

"Honey, you don't even work here. They have a relief shift coming in, they'll be here by seven. Go home."

"Did Dana get out of here?" Sam asked as she stripped off her trauma gown and shoved it in one of the overflowing bins.

"I sent her home too, every nurse on the floor now is night shift. Students are gone, I even saw Abbot walk Robby out earlier." Bridget wasn't going to back down.

With a glance at her watch she saw it was in fact almost 7am. "Let me help 'till next shift comes in."

The two nurses stared each other down. Bridgett sighed, "You are the worst." She said it with a smile though, "I have Tina and Shad making a lap to check IVs, you can help with that."

Which is exactly what she was doing at 7:33am when Jack found her. "Let's go home."

She looked over her shoulder and then back to the kid in the gurney, "They are gonna come get you in a bit okay." When the kid nodded she gave him a smile and turned around to see Jack. "How are you doing?" She wanted to reach out and touch him but restrained herself.

He nodded, looked her up and down and nodded again, "Relief shift is here. Let's go home."

Sam nodded and went to follow him down the hall.

Bridgett met them at the counter and before she could say anything Jack held up a hand, "We're going. Which means you are too." He gave her a pointed look.

She snorted out a laugh, like she hadn't been trying for half an hour to get him to leave. "Right behind you."

Jack held an arm out to wrap her in a one armed hug. "Go home and get some sleep. Give the kids a hug."

"Mhmm." She wrapped her own arm around his middlle and squeezed. Then she moved to Sam and the two of them exchanged a hug of their own. "Love you, sweetie."

"Love you too." Sam held onto the hug a little longer. "Thank you for always taking care of him." She whispered.

Bridgett hummed and gave her another squeeze, "You know it."

When they pulled apart Jack was standing to the side with his backpack on one shoulder, and hers in his hand. "Ready?"

"Yeah." She grabbed her pack from him, "You grab the duffles?

"There in there. Night Bridge."

"Good night." She called after them as they headed for the ambulance bay.

It was jarring to see the nurses and doctors that had just arrived, not covered in blood, no goggles, no trauma gowns, just ready to work a regular-ish shift.

When Sam went to take the corner Jack grabbed the back of her scrub top and pulled her towards him.

"I had to park in visitor parking."

He just tugged her again and held out his hand, "We'll come get it later." Sam blinked and after a moment nodded. She smiled and let him take her hand. Jacks face was still stoic, but he gave her hand a squeeze and led her out to the MD parking lot.

As they approached the truck he dug the keys out of his pocket and hit the remote start, then pulled Sam's bag off her shoulder. While she walked around to the passenger side he tossed their stuff in the back seat. "Don't even think about it." He called to her as he saw her move to open the passenger door.

She made a face at him when he came around to open her door for her. Rather than say anything she just stepped up and gave him a kiss, then climbed inside.

~~~~~

Jack held her hand the whole drive home and didn't let go until he had parked the truck. The drive home had been silent except for the music. When they got inside they undressed in the laundry room in silence and climbed into the shower together in silence.

One of the things Jack had always appreciated about Sam was that the silence was never awkward or uncomfortable. It never had been. He found just as much pleasure, just as much comfort in her company regardless if either of them had anything to say or not.

At some point Sam had leaned back into him, her eyes closed and her skin flushed from the scalding hot water, and he wrapped his arms around her. It had been quiet for so long he almost felt bad to be the one that broke the silence. So, he tipped his head to the side and kept his voice soft and low as he spoke beside her ear, "Want me to help wash your hair, or want me to go find us something to eat?"

Sam groaned, conflicted by the choices he had offered, "Both?"

He chuckled, pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, "Gotta pick one." Then let his chin rest against her shoulder while he waited for her answer.

She took her time, apparanently more content to stand under the hot water and simply exist.

Jack smirked, too tired to smile, and kissed her bare shoulder, "Pick or I will."

His wife just groaned and grumbled again, let more of her weight settle against him.

"Ok," He kissed her shoulder, her temple, allowed himself one selfish caress of his hands over her naked body and told her, "Stay here long as you need to. I'll go make some dinner."

~~~~

When Sam had finally drug herself out of the shower, she threw on a pair of shorts and one of Jacks hoodies, and headed into the kitchen. She found Jack there shirtless in a pair of sweats with his back to her as he made two plates of spaghetti. Before she went into the kitchen she took a second to stop and be grateful for him. The reasons why where too many for her brain to process at that moment, but she was beyond grateful for him. Every day, but especially today.

"Quit staring, come eat."

She smiled and joined him to eat at the counter. As always Jack cleared his plate like it would disappear if he didn't. Something that he'd never grown out of even after more than a decade out of the Army. His choice of second career just as inhospitable to sit down meals as his first. For awhile he sat there with her, then got up and tidied up the kitchen and the small mess he'd made.

When Sam still hadn't finished her plate he grabbed his phone and kissed her on the top of her head as he walked by, "I told Robby I'd call when we got home."

Sam nodded and went back to her food. Chose not to acknowledge outloud that the call was a thinly veiled check in. He'd made a threat, or a promise, to Robby on the roof of the hospital early that morning. "I'm going to call you when I get home, and you better fucking answer."

~~~~~

By the time they made it to bed Jack threw the covers back and dropped into the middle of the mattress with a groan, "Jesus Christ, I'm getting too old for this."

Sam went to the closet and stripped the hoodie off over head and traded it for a UC Davis t-shirt. She didn't respond to him right away. Instead she shut the closet and sat on the foot of the bed. She sat there a long time, only half turned towards him, mostly her gaze stayed on her hands, "Am I a bad person?"

Jack groaned again as he turned on his side, propped up on an elbow, "Not usually." He waited for her to look his way, to give him some sarcastic remark, but she did neither. "Can I have some context?

She took a breath, still didn't look his way, but she did turn a little closer towards him, "Tonight was… a terrible thing. I'm exhausted… but, part of me… part of me feels like a shitty person…" She couldn't finish the thought out loud. She didn't need to.

"Felt good didn't it?" Jack kept his voice soft, compassionate. "It felt good to be knee deep in the shit again. To have a different life literally in the palm of your hands every five minutes. Down and dirty, think on your feet medicine. Save this guy, if you can't save this guy then save the next one." He paused to study her face closely, tried again to catch her eye. "To be one of the ones keeping your shit together, when people around you are spinning out."

When she looked up at him finally her eyes were a little glassy, but he knew she wouldn't cry.

"No Sam, you're not a bad person. You're someone that thrives in that chaos, and that is an incredible thing." He reached for her shirt and gave it a gentle tug, "C'mere."

She stared at him for a minute and then moved. First she stretched to switch off the light and then she rolled onto her side to cuddle up as close as physically possible to her husband.

He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled the blankets up over them. Jack tugged her closer, guided her leg over his and tucked her head against his chest. With his left hand he traced aimless patterns over her lower back and with the right he held her hand over his chest. Where they could both feel the steady rhythm of his heart. After a minute he added, "That was one of the first things I found sexy about you."

When she scoffed and pressed a kiss to his chest he knew he had her back from that dark place.

She chuckled a little bit and her fingers flexed over his chest, "Is it bad that I found it sexy watching you do that field crike on the cop?"

Jack smiled and tipped his head towards her, "Is it bad I think it's sexy that you found that sexy?"

That earned him a giggle and it was like suddenly they could both breath again. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she snuggled close as they settled in to try and get some sleep. It didn't take long before Sam broke the silence again, her voice a little softer, "Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you, can we keep talking? It feels good to talk?"

He gave her a squeeze and moved his right hand down to stroke over her thigh where it was hitched over his. "Something specific?"

Fingers tracing patterns on his chest she hummed, "No, just… listen to you talk." She sounded almost sheepish.

So, he talked. He started with arriving at the hospital and then talked through each patient he saw, one by one. What they came in with, how they treated it. The whole time her fingers flexed against his bare chest, her thumb stroked back and forth as she listened.

Jack smiled to himself eventually. "DId you hear one of the med students IOed a guy while he was awake and talking?"

"Like on purpose?"

"Yep."

"Ohhh, no…poor kid."

"Poor guy that got drilled in the arm you mean." He pinched her thigh. "Then the Santos girl did fucking Reboa on her own."

"Yeah I heard that, and I heard you gave her an 'atta girl'."

"Like you never stepped out of your depths to save a patient."

"This isn't Afghanistan."

He paused before he responded, "Felt a little like it tonight." Jack pulled her thigh higher up over his waist and held her there, "I think she's got what it takes though, Santos, just needs reined in a little."

"Oh, gee wonder who has a favorite already?" She teased him. "Samira's got it too."

"Yeah she does." He nodded and twisted his head to look down at her, "Worst fucking circumstances," Jack started as he moved the arm around her up so he could play with her hair, "But it was fun to work with you tonight." He kissed the top of her forehead.

Sam tipped her head up to look at him, "Yeah it was," She moved her hand up to his jaw, "Forgot I was married to a badass for a minute there."

Jack huffed out a laugh and closed the distance between them. "Damn right you are." He kissed her even a she rolled her eyes. He pulled back just enough to speak, "So am I." He kissed her softer and slower. "Should get some sleep baby."

"Ok." Her answer was a whisper against his lips and she smiled when Jack kissed her again, "Love you."

"Love you too."

Sam woke up a few hours later with a start, her heart racing and her chest tight, she had to fight to breathe and clear her head. In the split second between asleep and awake she felt Jack jerk in bed beside her and then sit bolt upright. That was when she realized what had startled her awake. "Jack, babe… hey, it's okay."

Jack kicked at the blankets, sucking in air and shaking, one hand clutched as his chest, as his whole body trembled.

"Oh fuck, Jack, hey listen to me." She sat up on her knees and moved to his side of the bed as fast as she could and off the edge to kneel on the floor in front of him.

"Fuck," He was sucking in air, in shallow, uneven, breaths that rattled his chest and he repeated the curse over and over, "Fuck. Fuck."

"Hey, baby i'm right here." Knelt on the floor in front of him she braced one hand on his thigh as it nearly vibrated under her touch, "Jack. Jack, listen to me, look at me okay." His eyes jumped over the room all around them, but never to her. "You're home. You are home, with me, right?" She gave him an exaggerated nod and put her other hand over his on his chest where it still clawed over his sternum like if he tried hard enough he could rip a hole in his chest to breath.

Sam swallowed thick, her mouth dry and her own chest still tight. "You're safe, you're home, with me. You have to breathe. Right? Have to slow down and breathe baby."

He finally gave her a nod and tried for a shaky breath but he almost immediatly started to hyperventilate again as he started to rock back and forth on the bed.

"Hey… hey, hey, hey, nope. Deep and slow, right? Deep and slow?"

He lurched forward and Sam panicked briefly that he might be sick, but clung to the feeling of one of his hands as it wrapped around the back of her neck. "I'm right here, right here, with you. You're home. We are home. You're not there. You're here." She said it over and over again in the softest, calmest voice she could muster, as she moved closer to him and cupped the back of his head and brought it down to her shoulder. Careful to leave some distance, she'd learned the hard way, he could sit up suddenly and catch her in the face. Which hurt like hell and made him feel guilty later.

"You're right here with me, just gotta breathe Jack. Okay? Breathe." Sam drew in a long, deep, audible, breath through her nose as she counted in her head; 1,2,3,4. Then she held that breath and blew it out through pursed lips. Strong and steady to the same count; 1,2,3,4.

The whole time she stroked her fingers through his hair and continued to breathe with him, give him the rythym to follow.

In, 1,2,3,4. Hold, 1,2,3,4. Out, 1,2,3,4 Hold, 1,2,3,4

She felt and heard him fight for it. Fight for the air, for the control over his own mind and body.

She began to count it out loud for him, her voice soothing but firm in his ear.

In, 1,2,3,4. Hold, 1,2,3,4. Out, 1,2,3,4 Hold, 1,2,3,4

Jack spit out a shaky, 'Fuck…me…" His grip on the back of her neck tightened and released through the tremors.

"You're good baby, you got this. Just breath for me, you got this."

His trembling had slowed, his breathing had regulated some. Progress. Sam moved her hand from his hair down to the base of his skull and began to tap out the count and breathe along with him. In. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Hold. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Out. Tap, tap, tap, tap.

"I'm, sh-, shit." He fought through a breath, "I'm," His whole body racked with a tremor. "Fuck, I'm sorry." His voice was strained, painful even. "I'm s-sorry."

"Stop that. You're fine, you got this. We got this. Just keep breathing."

He nodded against her shoulder, his body still trembled almost constantly, but each breath got him closer and closer.

Sam didn't relax until she felt the majority of her husbands weight collapse against her and he let out what sounded like the last of the shaky breaths.

"Hey, you with me?" She whispered it into his ear and finally took a deep breath of her own when his fingers relaxed at the back of her neck and what had been a death grip softened to a gentle caress.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Baby…I'm sorry." Another shaky breath as he sat up straight. "Jesus…" He shoved a hand back through his hair. "Came out of nowhere."

Sam watched, still knelt on the floor in front of him, as his hand reached up to rub over the scar on his left shoulder. A nervous tick that he kept such a lock on that she would be the only one to recognize it. "Don't say sorry." She stroked her hand up and down his thigh in long firm strokes in an attempt to keep him steady, keep him grounded. "What you did today, what you had to do today," She ducked her head to try and catch his gaze in the dark of their room, "Of course it hits home."

He looked at her, hand still rubbed over the scar over and over again. "I was fine. Everything was fine."

"I know." She stood and stepped between his legs so she could tip his face up towards hers. "What do you need now?"

Jack didn't respond right away, he looked exhausted all the sudden.

"What time is it?"

"It's early yet," She glanced at the clock, "Not even noon."

He nodded, scrubbed at his face for a second, "You have to work tonight." When he looked up at her he looked sad, like he'd let her down somehow.

Sam shook her head, "I traded with Remi, for next Saturday. They're going to take the kids to the lake. I'm off all weekend." The relief on his face both made her heart flutter and broke it a little. "Let's go back to bed."

Almost immediately he shook his head, "No, I'm not going to be able to sleep."

"Okay, well, go take a quick shower," He was drenched in sweat, "And then we can go watch TV or something."

With a nod Jack stood up which brought them close together and she kept her hands on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something.

"Do you want your phone? Call Shane or TJ?" More than once she'd had to make a call on his phone in the middle of the night, her hand trembling, so one of his battle buddies could talk him down when she couldn't. More than once they'd woken up to his phone when it rang in the middle of the night so he could do the same for one of them.

Jack shook his head, "No, no I'm good." Still a little shaky as the adrenaline dumped out of his system, he put his hands on her waist and stared over her shoulder at the wall. "Just, give me a minute."

"Ok. I'll go make some coffee."

~~~~~

It was the middle of the afternoon, but the house was dark. They'd left the blackout curtains drawn so the only source of light was the TV on the wall as it played whatever show Sam had put on before she dozed off on the couch beside him. He honestly wasn't sure what it was, she knew he didn't care, that he just needed the distraction.

She shifted a little under the blanket, her legs stretched across his lap and her face buried in a throw pillow. Part of him wished he could go back to sleep like her. He'd spent the first twelve minutes on the couch with her feet in his lap, one thumb stroking back and forth over the arch of her foot while he stared blankly at the TV. It had calmed him down some, enough, and it had put her to sleep.

Jack shook his head and tried to focus on the show. He hated the feeling of the imbalance, the aftermath. It was like his thoughts were marbles on a perpetually rocking surface and he had no control over either.

Sam shifted again, "How are you feeling?" Her voice was soft and sleepy.

At first he just nodded, knew that anyone but her would see the scowl on his face and leave it alone. Then he rubbed a hand over his eyes and nodded again, "Better." He gave her calf a squeeze through the blanket. "Why don't you go back to bed."

"Comfy here." There was no hesitation in her response and she twisted slightly so she could see him better. "Need anything?"

He shook his head. Then for the first time since the day before he thought about the young vet, how he'd ended up on the roof of the hospital. He took a deep breath, his voice quieter, "The vet I lost, yesterday, the drunk driver hit and run victim. He was the same age as you." He didn't know why it mattered. He didn't know if he'd even registered it at the time.

She was quiet for a long minute, "I'm right here Jack."

He moved his hands under the blanket so he could feel her skin, warm and smooth, under his hands. He set one hand on her ankle, searched out that faint thrum of a pulse, and the other brushed lightly up her calf then down again. "I know."

For long enough he thought she might have dozed off his wife was silent. Then she let out a little laugh, "You know what I always think of? When we sit like this."

"In Kandahar when I'd go sneak into your hooch?" He gave her an honest grin at the memory.

"Mhmm. Every chance you got." She hummed happily and gave him one of her sleepy little smiles.

"Blame me?" He gave her a smile of his own and shifted on the couch so he could stretch out behind her.

She shuffled around for a minute until she could make room for him and then he pulled the blanket over them both.

He pulled her back, flush with his chest and wrapped his arms around her tight. Once she was settled she chuckled softly. "What?" Jack squeezed her tight and buried his face in the back of her neck.

"Just thinnking. Imagining if I could go back and tell 22 year old me that she does get to marry the sexy Army medic with the pretty eyes and the angry face." She giggled a little then continued, "That he loves her and treats her so much better than she'd ever imagined and she's going to be so fucking happy."

For a moment that tight feeling in his chest returned. but it was not the PTSD this time. He had to swallow a couple of times before he could respond without a lump in his throat and when he did he mumered it so soft and earnest it felt like the first time, "I love you." He pressed his lips to the spot behind her ear and left a kiss there that made her shiver. "So fucking much."

~~~~~

He did fall back asleep, they both did, and when he finally woke up it was nearly midnight and the weight on his chest was long gone. The dread and the darkness at bay. They hadn't moved at all in their sleep. Sam was still wrapped up in his arms, her back to his chest. His shoulder ached from laying on it but he wouldn't move. He pressed his forehead into the back of hers and breathed deep and easy.

"Awake?" She sounded barely so herself, but her fingers curled over his forearm. It was like their internal clocks were synchronized, or that she was just so intune with him after all these years her body knew when he woke.

"Yeah baby." He squeezed her tight.

So tight that she let out a little groan and the breath of a giggle, "How you feel?"

"Good." He tipped his head to drop a kiss on top of her sleep tangled hair. "We slept a long time."

"Mhmm," She shifted and wiggled around closer to him and sunk deeper into his arms. "Felt good."

"Yes it did." He moved his free hand down to her hip and gave it a squeeze. Under the blanket his hand moved from her hip under the shirt she slept in. He stroked over her waist, her soft, smooth stomach and then up to cup her breast.

"Jack," She didn't stop him but her tone was clear.

He smirked, kissed the back of her head again as he swiped the pad of his thumb over her nipple, "Told you, I feel fine." Jack tipped his head so he could whisper into her ear, "Better than fine."

His wife hummed and then twisted around to look at him over her shoulder. She stared at him for a moment, studied him closely in the dark.

While she looked he pulled his hand out from under the blanket and moved it up to cup the side of her neck. "Sam, I'm fine." He traced his thumb up her throat, "Promise." He tipped her face up to give her a quick kiss. His thumb brushed over her pulse and he smirked when she arched up into it, "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, ok Doctor Abbot."

"Watch the tone." He kissed her again, "Nurse Abbot."

His wife laughed into the kiss and nipped at his top lip, "Don't push your luck." Sam moaned as his thumb pressed a little firmer on the next pass and she turned onto her back. She nearly melted into the couch as Jack continued to kiss and caress her.

HIs hand slid from her throat, over her chest and then pushed the blanket aside so he could reach more of her. Jack swept his tongue through her mouth and the sweet little groan it earned him went straight to his cock. He kissed her harder and deeper, slid one hand back under her shirt and groaned a little himself when she angled her hips up off the couch. When he pulled back from her lips, a dangerous grin on his face he whispered, "What do you want baby?"

Sam shifted again, this time to wrap her arms up around his neck and pull him back, "Just don't stop."

The hand under her shirt slid up over her sternum and he stopped when his middle finger dipped into the suprasternal notch. He felt her swallow and then he trailed the tip of the middle finger down, slowly, as it barely ghosted over her sternum, down her stomach and dipped it into her naval. When she giggled and her stomach fluttered Jack leaned back in to kiss her. Her giggle turned into a moan as he slipped his hand into the waistband of her shorts.

He didn't stop. He moved until he felt her and only pulled his lips from hers to murmer, "Fuck baby." Then slammed his lips down over hers again as his fingers found the warmth and wetness between her legs. With one hand he dragged her shorts down her legs and smiled wide as she kicked them rest the way off herself and dug her hand into the hair on back of his head. As he pushed himself up onto his elbow, the hand beneath her cradled her neck, he used his other hand to pull her leg up over his hip. "Stay right here." He kissed her cheek, "Just like that." Jack whispered the last part against her ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth.

The little shiver that rolled through her when he did that never fucking got old, so he did it again and again until she tugged on his hair. Hard. When he pulled back he could tell he was smiling, an honest to God smile, because she looked like she fell a little more in love.

"There's my smile." Sam leaned up to kiss him, a smile of her own pressed to his as they did.

It was her smile Jack thought. She was the only one that ever saw it anymore. She was the only one he gave it to. The first time she'd seen it, she'd smiled so wide herself it looked like it might hurt, then she had leaned in close and whispered, "Those dimples are dangerous." He smiled a little wider at the memory and then let his hand slip from the inside of her thigh down to her core.

"Jesus." Her breath caught, voice somewhere between relief and desperation, as he so very gently ghoted the pad of his finger over her lower lips. Her whole body trembled as he did it a second time. The third featherlight stroke earned him a whiny, "Ja-ack." as she raised her hips up to try and get him where she wanted him.

With a quick brush of his lips over hers he responded, "I said stay remember?"

Her hips returned to lay flat against the couch, but the whine she let out let him know she was annoyed. Jack smiled and kissed her again, Then because he felt alive again for the first time in days, he licked his lips and pulled back enough to see her face. He stroked that same, barely there touch over her again and whispered, "Be a good nurse and do as your doctor says." Then he waited that split second it took for her eyes to flash just beyond annoyance and then before she could argue or snap back at him he slid his middle finger knuckle deep and stroked that hidden spot that made her whole body tremble and her eyes roll back in her head.

"Ohh I'm," Her breath caught as he caressed that little spot again, "I'm gonna fucking," A second finger stretched her a little wider and she had to fight back a moan to finish, "I'm going to get you for that."

Jack just smiled, the one just for her. The big one with the dimples and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and he pressed his forehead to hers as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, "I know you will baby." He kissed her and laughed, because every now and then she'd play that game with him. She'd be his good little nurse and it drove him fucking crazy on the right day. Today though she was his feisty little wife and he wanted to get that rise out of her. See that attitude flash in her eyes and then bring her back.

The grip she had on his hair told him he wasn't quite forgiven just yet, but the rush of wetness and the quiver of her pussy around his fingers told him he wasn't far off. She kept trying to twist and turn, to press her thighs together, anything to get what she wanted, but Jack just kept her there on her back beside him as he played with her. "Jack, please…"

Jack sped up his movements and she arched up off the couch, chasing his touch. "Going to cum for me baby?"

She nodded and the hand in his hair jumped to his back where her nails dug in and reminded him he was hard as a fucking rock and he needed to be inside her, soon.

He moved his fingers slick with her wetness up to draw a lazy circle around her clit. "Goin' to be a good girl and come for me?"

Sam whined but her nails dug into his back and fuck it felt good. He knew they were on that dangerous line where if he wassn't careful, didn't play it just right, she'd turn on him. Then he would be the one on his back with her teasing him until his balls ached. That's not what he wanted tonight and neither did she, because she nodded. She nodded and whined so pretty and pushed into his fingers and he gave her that smile again. Just for her as he watched her, his fingers on her clit moved in hard, fast circles. The kind that always gave her just enough relief to feel good, but left her craving more.

When she came her mouth fell open in a gasp and her eyes snapped shut, Her hips arched towards him and this time he let her. "Good girl." He murmered it into her ear as he coaxed her through that first orgasm. He kissed her cheek, her ear, her throat and felt the rumble of a happy, satisfied moan as she relaxed.

Once her eyes focused he was there, with the smile he kept for her and a kiss that resonated down into their bones.

She wrapped her arms around him again and lost herself in it. "You're too good at that." She whispered as they finally pulled apart. By the time her brain had focused enough to notice Jack had her tshirt pushed up to her breasts and had kissed his way over her hip bone, "Jack," The whine carried more than his name with it. "What're you doing?"

Jack couldn't help but smirk into the soft, silky skin of her inner thigh, "Something else I'm very good at." And then with a wink he ducked his head and his tongue made the first firm swipe through her still wet and quivering pussy, ready to show her time and time again, just how good he was. That he was happy, he was alive, as long as he was with her.

~~~~

Chapter Three - Coming Soon!

#dr jack abbot #the pitt #dr jack abbott #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #Jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot x ofc #dr Jack abbot x ofc #Jack Abbott x ofc #dr Jack Abbott x ofc #shawn hatosy

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inkdrinkerworld · 6 months ago

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okay so ive literally only seen either virgin!reader and experienced!spencer or virgin!spencer and experienced!reader but never both reader and spencer being virgins and i would LOVE to see your take on it with early season (s2-3) if that's something you are interested in!

thank you so much!

Oh oh this can be very cool! Thank you for your request darling! This is the set up between our awkward loves ᡣ𐭩

It’s painfully obvious you and Spencer like each other- painfully.

But Elle has warned Derek off of giving either of you stick for it- still she notices things, she isn’t sure if you and Spencer have noticed though.

You and Spencer always eat breakfast together in the kitchenette and when Spencer pours your tea exactly like you like it, your shoulders square and you smile a little half smile.

When your hand brushes Spencer’s after sharing half your fruit, his cheeks flame and he stumbled through the rest of whatever he was saying.

She’s thought Derek had been joking when he said Spencer never gets girls, but it’s clear this is the first time for the two of you.

“Spencer, they finally had honeydew and I got the last of the crunchy nectarines and peaches.” You say as you set your bag down, Spencer folding his crossword away as he stands.

“But are they sweet? It’s not peak season for them anymore and studies show that the closer it is to the end of the fruit’s season the more tasteless it can become. You may have peaches and nectarines that are either sour or have a higher water content.”

He makes up the distance between you with three quick strides, tilting his head toward the kitchenette.

You pout as you show Spencer your bowl of already cut fruit. “Taste one and make a better assessment?”

Spencer’s cheeks heat as he takes a wedge of the peach and finds it sweet as can be and crunchy like he likes it; your eyes on him the whole time.

You stand there more than a little smug. Spencer refrains from blushing even more.

“Let’s eat,” Spencer made eggs and sausages, something about high protein breakfasts keeping you satiated and able to perform properly all day.

You brought fresh bread and the fruit.

You’re not expecting Spencer’s hand to press into the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to get to the fridge as you dish the fruit into bowls.

Your breath hitches and your body stiffens - the pressure feels good if a bit foreign.

“Sorry, I made your iced coffee.” He mumbles retrieving your cup and sitting down.

The conversation between you and Spencer flows easily, you talk about bugs, your favourite animals, you even venture into a little talk about work and how you’re working on something for your old university.

You touch Spencer’s hand as you take a sip of the coffee, your thumb going back and forth. Your eyes lock on his as you compliment him. “It’s perfect, Spence. Thank you.”

Elle is glad Derek isn’t there when Spencer goes scarlet and can’t seem to get his words out.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #early season!spencer

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simplygojo · 8 months ago

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ok ive followed you for awhile and i love your writing youre so talented! if youre open to it i wanted to request something. basically my idea was like (aged up) you nobara, yuji, megumi, maki, toge are friends and you play a spicy truth or dare game... basically it ends with crushes confessing their feelings and spicy preferences/kinks and stuff. i was thinking yuji x reader or megumi x reader but anything works. i totally get if you think this is weird and dont want to do it so no worries! - anon <3

Drink, Dare, and Desire

Authors Note: I loved this request!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I really hope you like this and hope it was something along the lines of what you were looking for!

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Adult/Megumi Fushiguro x f/reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings : 18+ Content, (mild) SMUT! Alcohol Use!

The night was alive with the hum of the city just outside the dorm windows. You, along with Nobara, Yuji, Megumi, Maki, and Toge, were sprawled across the room, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout dinner and a mostly drained bottle of sake scattered between you.

It wasn’t often that you all found time to hang out like this. Between training and missions, these moments of downtime were precious—and apparently, very unpredictable.

“Alright, alright, who’s next for a drink?” Nobara chirped, swirling the sake bottle in her hand, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy.

Yuji stretched lazily, a wide grin on his face as he glanced around. “Why stop at drinking when we could make it interesting?”

It took less than a second for Nobara to catch on. “Ooh, what are you suggesting?”

Maki, sitting back with her arms folded, raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem opposed. Meanwhile, Toge, his quiet demeanor in stark contrast to the energy around him, gave a casual shrug. It was rare to see him so relaxed, which probably had something to do with the sake flowing freely.

“Truth or dare,” Yuji declared, rubbing his hands together like he was about to unveil some grand plan.

A soft groan escaped Megumi, who had been sitting quietly beside you, a slight frown on his face as he watched the chaotic energy unfold. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, though you could sense a slight interest beneath his usual stoic demeanor.

You snorted, nudging him lightly. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Fushiguro.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward for a second before settling back into his familiar expression. But even as he tried to seem unaffected, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Truth or dare games had a way of revealing more than they were meant to, and maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for exactly that.

Nobara wasted no time, slapping the floor in excitement. “Okay! Yuji, since it was your idea, you go first. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Yuji responded instantly, leaning back on his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Nobara’s grin widened, and you knew from that look she had something ridiculous in mind. “I dare you… to chug your drink, then kiss someone in the circle.”

The room fell into a momentary hush, all eyes darting toward Yuji as his grin faltered for just a second before he leaned forward and grabbed his drink.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the remainder of his sake, slamming the cup down with a triumphant look on his face. Without hesitation, he leaned over to Toge, planting a dramatic kiss on his cheek.

Toge raised a brow, his face impassive as always, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Salmon,” he said, giving Yuji a light shove, which only made everyone burst out laughing.

Maki shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Weak.”

“You’re just mad you weren’t the one kissed,” Yuji teased, wiping the corner of his mouth with a grin.

“Dream on, idiot,” Maki shot back, but the playful tension between them was undeniable.

Toge, ever the quiet observer, pointed to you next, his expression calm as he said, “Tuna mayo?”

“Truth,” you answered, deciding to take it easy for now. You could already feel a warmth spreading through you, the sake making everything seem a little hazier, a little more relaxed.

Yuji leaned forward with an eager expression. “Who do you think is the most attractive here?”

A collective groan followed the question, though there was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. You felt the weight of their stares, especially Megumi’s, whose gaze seemed to pierce through you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Megumi,” you finally said, the word tumbling out softly, almost shyly.

The room erupted in laughter and teasing remarks, but all you could focus on was the subtle way Megumi’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting away as a faint flush rose to his cheeks.

“Wow, no hesitation,” Nobara teased, nudging Megumi’s arm with her elbow. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Megumi grumbled something under his breath, but his usual stoic front was beginning to crack, a small, rare smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, alright, moving on,” you said quickly, trying to divert the attention. “Nobara, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she replied instantly, crossing her arms over her chest with a look that screamed ‘challenge me.’

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before smirking. “I dare you to tell us one of your kinks.”

Nobara’s eyes widened slightly, her confident facade faltering for just a second before she burst into laughter. “Oh, come on! Alright, fine.” She leaned back, her cheeks flushed—though whether it was from the alcohol or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “I like it rough—like really rough.”

The room collectively gasped before bursting into a mixture of laughter and wide-eyed stares. Yuji let out a loud “What?!” while Maki just shrugged with a look that said, Not surprised.

“That’s way too much information,” Yuji groaned, covering his face with his hands while Nobara smacked him on the back.

“What, too much for you, Yuji?” Nobara teased, clearly enjoying the moment. “Maybe I’ll dial it back next time.”

Toge snickered quietly, glancing at Yuji, whose face was flushed for an entirely different reason now.

—

The game continued, each round more daring and revealing. Maki, always calm and collected, had admitted that she preferred someone who could challenge her both physically and ‘test her limits.’

Toge, while still being mostly silent, revealed through hand gestures and a few simple words that he liked to be taken control of and bossed around—makes sense given his cursed speech ability.

Yuji, with his usual lack of filter, shared a little too much about his curiosity in trying anything—and he meant everything—at least once, leaving Nobara shaking her head and everyone else laughing.

By the time it was Megumi’s turn again, the air in the room felt charged, the stakes higher now that almost everyone had bared more than just their emotions.

Maki’s sharp gaze landed on Megumi, and you could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Alright, Fushiguro, truth or dare?”

He looked almost bored, but you could tell he was being careful. “Dare.”

A slow, almost wicked grin spread across Maki’s face. “I dare you to kiss y/n.”

Your heart nearly stopped. The laughter and chatter from the others faded into the background as you locked eyes with Megumi. His expression didn’t change, but you noticed how his eyes darkened slightly, like he was weighing his options.

The whole room seemed to still, waiting for his next move.

Without breaking eye contact, Megumi stood up, moving toward you with a calmness that belied the tension swirling around him. Every step he took seemed deliberate, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as the distance between you closed.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol in the air. His voice was low when he spoke, meant only for your ears. “Are you okay with this?”

You could barely nod, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started soft, almost teasing.

But when you responded, pressing into him, the kiss deepened, the intensity building between you until all the nerves and tension melted away. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.

When he finally pulled away, the room erupted in cheers and teasing catcalls, but you could hardly focus on any of it.

The only thing you could think about was the way Megumi’s hand lingered on your waist, his eyes still locked on yours as though you were the only person in the room.

“Wow,” Yuji finally broke the silence, clapping his hands together. “That was intense.”

“Way to go, Fushiguro,” Nobara added, winking at you with a knowing smile.

Megumi, still quiet, returned to his spot beside you, but this time, his body language was different.

There was no more guarded front, no more distance. Instead, his knee brushed against yours, his arm resting just a little too close to be accidental.

The game had peeled back some of his usual stoicism, and now there was something deeper lurking beneath his calm exterior—something you could feel humming in the space between you.

You dared to glance over at him, only to find his eyes already on you, their dark intensity sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. He didn't look away, didn't even try to hide the fact that he was watching you.

Your breath hitched slightly, the sudden weight of his gaze pressing down on you, making your pulse quicken. It was like he was trying to read you, see past the casual facade you were putting up for the others.

But his eyes weren’t just curious—they were hungry, filled with a desire you weren’t sure you were ready to face head-on, but that also thrilled you in ways you hadn’t expected.

The others were too caught up in their laughter to notice the way the air crackled between you and Megumi, but you were hyper-aware of every single movement he made. Even the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand rested dangerously close to your thigh, sent sparks through you.

You swallowed, trying to shake off the way your skin prickled with awareness, but it was impossible. The more you tried to ignore him, the more your body seemed to betray you, the warmth in your stomach spreading lower with every lingering glance he threw your way.

Then, as if on cue, Megumi stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'm getting another bottle," he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges, like he was holding back more than just his words.

You weren’t prepared for what came next. As he rose, his hand grazed your thigh—a light, seemingly casual touch, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

His fingers lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and when you looked up, his eyes met yours again, darker now, filled with an unspoken promise.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you blurred—Nobara’s laughter, Yuji’s teasing, Maki’s quips—all of it fading into the background.

All you could focus on was the heat of Megumi’s touch, the way it had seared through you, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation—you wanted him, bad.

The room felt too small, too hot, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you and him. It was nothing, really—a simple touch, a brush of fingers—but it felt like everything.

Like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the tension that crackled between you both.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath. But even as he walked away, you could still feel him. It was like his presence clung to you, the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin even in his absence.

When Megumi returned with another bottle of sake, his calm facade was back in place, but you weren’t fooled. There was a subtle shift in the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked to you as he sat back down, this time even closer than before.

His thigh brushed against yours, just barely, but it was enough to send another rush of heat pooling in your stomach.

You could feel him now, not just his physical presence, but the storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of every inch of your body—how close you were sitting, the way your legs almost touched, the heat radiating off him.

It felt like every breath you took was somehow synced with his, the air between you buzzing with a tension that neither of you acknowledged out loud but was impossible to ignore.

Nobara was saying something, but you barely registered the words. Your focus had narrowed, zeroing in on the way Megumi’s fingers brushed against the rim of his glass, the way his jaw clenched slightly when he looked at you, like he was holding something back.

The tension was suffocating, but in the best possible way, like it was wrapping around you, pulling you both into a world where nothing else mattered.

You shifted again, but this time it felt deliberate. The tiniest of movements, your knee brushing against his, the fabric of his pants against your skin.

It was innocent enough on the surface, but the way his eyes darkened in response told you everything you needed to know. The tension between you had been building for too long, simmering just beneath the surface, and now, it felt like it was reaching a boiling point.

When he looked at you again, his gaze was heated, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. You couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened, your heart thudding in your chest.

You wanted him to break first, to give in to whatever this was that had been hanging between you for so long.

—

The night was winding down, but the weight of everything that had been said—and left unsaid—hung heavily in the air. The others had drifted off to their rooms, their laughter fading into the background as the dorm grew quieter.

It was just you and Megumi now, the soft glow of the lamplight casting long shadows across the room, highlighting the distance between you that was rapidly shrinking with every passing second.

Megumi stood close, his usual stoic expression softer now, more vulnerable than you had ever seen. His fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. His eyes flickered, like he was searching for the right words but couldn’t quite find them.

"You’re staying, right?" His voice was quiet, hesitant, the rough edge of his usual demeanor replaced with something rawer, something real.

You nodded, heart pounding. "Yeah. I’m staying."

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, the unspoken tension between you two finally rising to the surface after simmering for so long.

You could feel the magnetic pull between you, an invisible thread tugging you closer, binding you in this shared moment of vulnerability and desire.

Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s resolve seemed to snap. His lips were on yours again, more urgent this time, as if the dam holding back everything he’d been feeling for so long had finally burst.

His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid to let go.

This kiss was different from the one earlier, more intense, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither of you had fully realized until now.

It was as if all the time spent pretending, all the looks, the touches, the quiet moments shared between you, had led to this.

You let out a long-awaited moan into his mouth as your lips moved hungrily in sync, as if releasing all the tension you’d been sitting in all night.

The fire between you was no longer just a flicker—it had ignited into something all-consuming, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer, desperate to erase any remaining space between you.

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like you had been waiting for this moment your entire life. The heat between you was overwhelming, your mind hazy with the sheer closeness of him.

Megumi’s hands roamed your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, his fingers rough and warm as they explored the sensitive skin beneath.

His touch was deliberate, slow, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of your body that he could claim.

Each pass of his fingertips was electric, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, igniting a fire deep inside you that you could no longer contain.

The moment his skin touched yours, it was like a spark had been lit, an intense awareness coursing through your body.

His hands slid up the curve of your waist, pausing just beneath your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your chest with an aching slowness that sent shivers racing down your spine.

The contact was subtle, but the heat from his touch seared into you, making your breath hitch and your pulse race.

Your senses were on overdrive—every small stroke of his fingers, the way his nails lightly grazed your skin, sent a rush of heat pooling in your core.

The alcohol had dulled your inhibitions, making you hyper-aware of every inch of him against you, but it was more than that.

The intimacy, the raw connection you shared with him, was overwhelming, heightening the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you.

You could feel it in every brush of his skin against yours, every soft exhale of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at your soft skin.

The tension built with every passing second, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control.

His hands moved higher, his touch growing bolder, more possessive, and it was almost unbearable—the way you ached for more, for him to go further, to close the distance that still remained between you.

Your body trembled beneath his touch, anticipation coursing through your veins as you leaned into him, needing him closer, needing more of him.

Your soft gasp filled the space between you as Megumi’s lips pressed against the side of your neck, trailing a slow, deliberate path down your skin. His breath was warm, ragged, and every exhale sent a wave of heat coursing through you.

He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, the warmth of his lips and the scrape of his teeth drawing another shiver from you. It was maddening—the way he took his time, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses that left your body trembling with need.

His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, and the sensation of his mouth on your skin made you feel like you were unraveling, your body responding to him with a mind of its own.

Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your thoughts muddled by the intoxicating combination of alcohol, desire, and the closeness of his body against yours.

You could feel his breath falter, his own restraint slipping as his lips moved against your skin, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. He kissed lower, his lips trailing along your collarbone, leaving a path of warmth and want in their wake.

Your heart raced, your body thrumming with the need for more, for him to touch you everywhere, to finally give in to the desire that had been building between you for what felt like forever.

As his hands tightened around your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, you knew that you weren’t the only one losing control.

Megumi’s breath came faster, more ragged, his kisses turning hungrier, more desperate, as though he was just as consumed by this moment as you were.

The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other, the heat of your bodies and the tension that had been simmering between you for far too long finally breaking free.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. His hands still held you close, refusing to let go, and when his eyes met yours again, they were dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough and low, filled with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I’ve wanted this for so long... wanted you."

Your heart fluttered at his confession, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. You had always known there was something between you and Megumi, but hearing it from him, feeling it in the way he touched you, made it all feel so much more real.

"I’ve wanted you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. He didn’t need words to understand—he could feel it in the way you clung to him, the way your body fit perfectly against his.

He captured your lips again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every second of it. The kiss was languid, filled with all the emotions you had both been too afraid to admit until now. His hands traced up your back, drawing you impossibly closer, his fingers tangled in your hair as the kiss grew more passionate.

The world outside faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and need. Time seemed to stretch, the only sound in the room the soft gasps and sighs as you both gave in to the moment, to the desire that had been building between you for so long.

Whatever unspoken boundaries had existed between you and Megumi before this night had shattered, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but your shared desire and the heat of the moment to guide you.

There was no turning back now.

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